What Never Was
by Piper Rose
Summary: In the age of peace after the War of 195, Relena and Quatre, two of the Earth Sphere's most dedicated pacifists, are faced with turmoil in their hearts. [Review]
1. Arrangement

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction; I'd be making another season of the show.

Part 1

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There was never love between us.

Oh, how could I have known

That what I saw shining there

Was what I saw alone?

Before her, the clouds were spread, bedecked with gold, across the horizon, listening intently to the last fluting song of the birds that were taking shelter in the fading light. The gold turned to scarlet as the sun sank below the mountains, turning them black. She placed her hand gently on the cool glass in front of her, captivated by the sight before her. The rosy clouds sped on their way, leaving the light behind and becoming bathed in the cool darkness. Silken shadows spread along the ground covering the sharp creases that were visible in daylight with an ebony blanket that softened the ridges into waves. An errant piece of gold slipped from its nightly tomb and flew away into the sky, along with a pair of cardinals that winged their way, singing, after it into the heavens.

"Miss Relena," said a muted voice behind her. She turned to see Pagan standing with one hand covering a pile of papers on her desk. She hadn't seen him enter and wondered how long he had stood captivated by the sunset just as she had been.

"Thank you, Pagan," she said with a smile. "Go to bed. I can take care of this by myself." Pagan nodded and left with a bow, closing the door to her office behind him. With one last glance at the moon-softened landscape behind her, she turned to concentrate on the pile of crisp, white envelopes before her.

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All letters, probably from my fellow aristocrats, she thought with a sigh. She had been born in a world of ballroom dances and nobility, a world where names meant more than personalities. The letters before her would undoubtedly be full of hollow sentiments that would leave her feeling drained after reading all of them.

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I wish I had wings.

Where would that put her? Surely wings would be enough to carry her beyond the monotonous life she lived now and take her to a place were people were still filled with humanity and not the grating coldness of rocks.

She still had her friends of course. The Gundam pilots and the others she had met in the war still filled her soul with hope and love and kept her going when the minor victories she won in the conference room could not. Lately, she had felt her resolve slipping from her. What did universal peace matter when she couldn't have peace within herself? Her days now were filled with spats of temper shown by people who were supposed to be the foundations of peace. She herself had her own doubts.

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The world will never be completely at rest, she thought wearily. _There is a cycle, as Dorothy has told me many times. We're all so superficial that we cannot see beyond our own worries. So we fight—sometimes for things that don't matter at all or things that will prove to be false or detrimental to the people who fought for them in the first place._

Those whose beliefs are rooted in the fighting are left to hold the world together afterward. I would swear that many people have forgotten the true purpose of the last war. How are we supposed to lead them if they don't change in their own hearts?

God—she just wanted to disappear sometimes.

She had told her council that, once when the desire was so strong that the wish escaped her lips in words before she could stop it. They had stared at her in horror—all except her bodyguards. Noin; Heero, who had returned several years after the end of the war; and Quatre, who also served on the council as well as being her guard, knew her well enough to know that while she would never throw away pacifism so carelessly, something was bothering her. They had tried to comfort her, Quatre by leading the remainder of the meeting, Heero by scaring the council into silence before their never-ending debates became tiresome, and Noin by making sure she had gotten a week's vacation. That had been three months ago.

A sudden urge to just throw the letters away overtook her. She ruffled through them, and not seeing anything of major importance, swept them off her desk and into the trash can. She pulled the navy velvet bow from her long blond hair and ran her fingers through it, resting her forehead on her palms.

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I'm not doing anything tonight—except being Relena. Not Relena Dorlian or Relena Peacecraft—just Relena, a girl who's going to be terribly behind in her work in the morning.

She removed her formal coat and pulled off her boots. She closed the door to her office, and tiptoed stealthily down the hall to her room, making sure that no one saw her and had cause to be alarmed. She wanted one night just to herself.

She turned the copper faucet of her large bath and let the steam rise until it filled the whole room with a smoky white cloud. Half an hour later, she emerged from the bath, toweling her hair dry and feeling considerably more relaxed. Her room looked foreign to her, the peach comforter on her queen-sized bed looked inviting but strange, as if she were sleeping in another's house. The portraits on the wall seemed to be of another woman, a majestic queen with aloofness in her posture and confidence in her eyes. _Nothing like me, _Relena mused as she buried her toes in the soft sea-green carpet. She placed the towel back on its rack in the bathroom and collapsed on her bed, her hand brushing against something stiff.

"What?"

She rolled over and saw a plain white envelope lying on the comforter, no name or address on the outside. She reached for it and tore it open, feeling tears come to her eyes as she read the first line.

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Relena,

I'm leaving today. Actually, I'm gone now. You'll be fine, I know. Don't waste time looking for something that was never there. Keep your eyes turned toward peace. Believe in yourself and don't give up.

"Believe in me," Relena whispered, clutching the note in her fists. "That's what you told me—Heero. Are you leaving for good, then?"

She ripped the note in two and threw it on the floor. Her tears were falling faster now, but they didn't mirror the anger that she felt. The anger roiled inside her with no focus, just as the tears blinded her making everything run together in a gray haze.

"Was our love never there? Was it even ever possible?" She lay face up on the floor, staring at the ceiling and letting the carpet absorb her tears. "Why didn't you take me with you?" She curled up on her side, staring blindly at the bed skirt.

Just before dawn, Noin entered the room quietly and picked the pieces of Relena's sorrow off the floor, depositing them in the wastebasket. She turned to look at the girl, sleeping in a tightly curled ball and put her comforter over her before turning to the door.

"She thinks that peace has stolen everything away from her," Noin murmured to herself. "Perhaps it has. I just hope that we can give a little back to her."

Quatre was playing his violin in a patch of sun that streamed in from the windows on the east side of the palace. He didn't look up as Noin entered the room and silently leaned against the wall. The bow trembled in his hand as he let the last wavering note fall on the still air. Noin spoke first.

"Every time I hear you play, Quatre, I feel that your heart is the strongest among us. Yet that song was so sad."

"I was playing my memories," Quatre said and placed the violin in its case. "How is she?"

"As we expected. She took it hard, Quatre. I'm worried," Noin bit her lip and looked out the window. "I wish that he hadn't left her like that, especially now."

"He couldn't see any other way. I would have left, too."

"Your song sounded like you were leaving something."

Quatre shook his head. "I should be focusing on my life now, on her life. Old ghosts have been haunting me all morning," he smiled gently. "How will she take the other news?"

"I don't know, Quatre. I don't know…"

She turned and left; the first meeting would start in about an hour. Quatre carefully put his violin case on the ground, then sat in the chair that had held it, looking out over the gardens. It was spring now, and the land inside the palace grounds was an explosion of color. Gardens weren't places of sadness; looking at one usually lightened Quatre's heart immediately. This time it didn't, however.

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Do I love her?

What he had agreed to was right—and necessary. He couldn't see any other way around it, and he was the only one who could help Relena. Heero would have given the world to try, Quatre knew, but he still regarded himself as nothing more than a soldier. While love was important, more was riding on this than just Relena's happiness.

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Or my own.

He would do his duty, but now he felt as though it were more than duty. They were kindred spirits in this war of broken hearts. Yet, when he looked at her, he saw a soul that was stronger than his own but crying out in an agony that was in danger of consuming it. He cursed the world with his whole heart and turned away from the window.

What mattered was not that the most influential leader in the United Earth Sphere was not performing but that her heart was dying. The girl who had raised the Peacecraft Kingdom and principles, the girl who had united the Earth, the girl who had given up her power so that there would be no monarchy—that girl was falling further and further away from herself, toward a black pit.

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I love her. I have to, or she won't make it.

Relena entered the council room and immediately knew that today would be different. The counselors weren't reclining lethargically in their chairs, but were whispering to each other in a low buzz that carried out into the hall. The droning noise stopped when she took her seat. Quatre and Noin entered behind her, Quatre sitting on her right, Noin on her left. Relena shuffled through the sheaf of papers that she had brought with her, taking a couple in her hands.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, nodding politely. They shifted in their chairs with glassed-over eyes. Relena placed the papers on the table in front of her and smoothed them with her hands, trying to banish the disquieting feeling that was welling up in her stomach.

"The past few years, most of our attention has been spent furthering the Mars Terra-Forming project. As you all know, Milliardo and Lucretzia Peacecraft returned earlier this year with news that project was advancing smoothly. From the reports that we have received from the scientists and technicians stationed on Mars, I believe that it will soon be safe to send civilians up. I propose that we wait for the council members who are not present to return, then meet to discuss a prospective date to begin colonization."

There was a few minutes of active discussion among the council members, punctuated occasionally by raised voices and enthusiastic gestures. One old gentleman lumbered ponderously to his feet.

"Miss Relena," he said in a slow drawl. The others fell silent, their eyes trained on him. "Some of us are concerned that this will put an undue amount of strain on you and this council. Beginning colonization now might stretch our resources to the limit. The United Earth Sphere has recently received word of a minor rebellion that has flared up in the southern regions of Russia. Perhaps it would be better for us to wait. We can't be sure how long you—"

"Lord Tudor, I'm fine," Relena said, barely able to restrain herself from snapping at him. The old gentleman fell back in his seat with a surprised expression on his face. The other councilors broke into heated discussion once more.

When the noise finally subsided, Noin rose from her seat and walked to the opposite end of the table.

"Miss Relena," she said, bowing. When Relena nodded she continued. "The council has, in order to maintain the peace for everyone, put forth a request that a consort be found for you."

Relena tightened her grip on the edge of the table. She barely saw Quatre gazing at her with concern in his eyes.

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A consort…be found for me? Arranged marriage. Is that why?

"Relena," whispered Quatre. Everyone was looking at her; Noin had stopped speaking.

"There is a concern, as Lord Tudor expressed earlier," Noin began again, slowly, "that the strain is too much for only one person to bear. The consort would have fully the same responsibilities and power as Miss Relena. Many of the councilors feel that there is only one man with the ability to hold this much power—Quatre Raberba Winner."

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Quatre.

Her heart froze. It wasn't right…wasn't fair! But, who was she to argue? They had picked the best choice, the man that she would have chosen. She struggled to hold back tears.

Quatre winced at the sound of his name. He had learned to be proud of it, but now it sounded harsh and imposing. Relena's eyes had widened, but she did not look at him.

He took her hand and kissed it as the councilors and etiquette expected. Her fingers were trembling against his lips. He felt his heart go out to her even more when she painted a calm expression over her face and bowed slightly in his direction.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Quatre nodded. "I'll do everything that I can," he whispered back.

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Everything…that I can do to heal your heart.

AN: Lucretzia and Milliardo were married sometime before this story took place. Lucretzia's friends, however, still call her Noin. I don't go into detail about their wedding in this story, maybe I will in another, though. I haven't decided yet.


	2. Match Made in Heaven

Chapter Two

AN: I called the new world order the United Earth Sphere last time, but it's supposed to be the Earth Sphere United Nation. I've changed it in this chapter, so don't be confused if you see it. ^_^ I also wanted to thank all the people who reviewed the last chapter. The reviews were all very nice, and I was happy to get them.

Bird song floated through the gauzy white curtains of the room where Quatre was sleeping. His arms were wrapped around a pillow, face buried in the silk cover. He opened his eyes and stared at the midnight blue blanket tucked underneath his chin, listening to the sweet, piping melody and allowing the warmth of the bed to slowly bring his mind into wakefulness.

He ran his fingers through his pale bangs. "I'm getting married today."

He had known the exact date since last month, known the steps he was to perform since last week, and known that he did not want to go through with it since last night. The blankets seemed to bear down heavily upon his chest. He rolled over onto his back, arms stretched above his head, looking at the white ceiling that seemed as blank as his mind. He lay that way for several minutes, eyes flickering as the light flared and waned in the wake of the clouds that passed over the sun.

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I shouldn't be so selfish.

He shoved the stifling covers away from him and stood up, shivering slightly as his feet touched the cold wooden floor. His outfit was waiting for him: coat, pants, and shirt laid out in neat order on the chest at the foot of the bed.

He shed his pajamas and left them in a heap on the floor, for once not worried about keeping the room tidy. Donning a crisp white dress shirt and soft white deerskin pants, he turned to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.

He looked up, fastening his cuffs without once looking at his wrists.

"Here to watch the wedding?"

He watched Trowa's reflection as the thin young man sat on the cushioned window seat, the window open behind him, a slight breeze making the white curtains billow around his tuxedo-clad frame.

"I wouldn't miss it," he stated simply.

Quatre walked back to the chest, his eyes downcast. He wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't seen Trowa since the last war. He plucked a black cummerbund from the chest and fastened it around his waist.

"Are you staying?" he asked hesitantly. His heart constricted with both hope and anxiety.

"Yes." Trowa paused. "You'll both need guards now. Wufei and Sally have been making noises about being stationed here, also."

"Heero, too?"

Quatre's fingers rumpled the silk of his white coat as he pulled it on, his own knuckles white.

Trowa shook his head. "No one's heard from him since he left."

Quatre looked over Trowa's head, letting his eyes run over the green hills that were dotted with tiny copses of trees on the Earth Sphere United Nation estate. He drew a deep breath.

"Trowa I—"

Trowa got up quickly, the curtains that had been clinging to him falling away as he strode toward Quatre.

"Poor little rich boy," Trowa whispered, putting his hands on Quatre's shoulders. Quatre looked up sharply, his breath escaping in a hiss from his lips. Trowa leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Quatre's forehead. Quatre stood motionless. Trowa's breath ruffled his hair slightly; he could barely feel Trowa's lips.

"Your choices are never easy," Trowa murmured into Quatre's hair. Quatre sighed softly and had begun to lean into Trowa's embrace when Trowa straightened. He turned Quatre around and gently pushed him toward the door.

"Go," he said.

When Quatre glanced over his shoulder at the door, he saw Trowa's silhouette standing before the window. The light shifted, and for a moment, Quatre thought that he had seen the ghost of a smile lingering on Trowa's face.

Relena gazed in the mirror at the magnificent dress she was wearing. Three women scurried around her, straightening lace and arranging the train. All four of them were hidden from view in a big room off the hall leading to the chapel. Joyous music bounded through the halls of the church, clearly heard even in the bell tower, but barely reaching Relena's ears. Relena rubbed her ring finger on her left hand, wondering how it would feel when Quatre slipped the wedding band on. She shifted slightly, and the dress rustled around her feet.

She had to admit that it hadn't taken much persuasion for her to believe her attendants when they told her that she looked beautiful. A strand of pearls and small white roses adorned her hair, which fell loose to the middle of her back, falling softly over her bare shoulders. A thin lace veil fell to the small of her back; it hadn't yet been placed over her face. More pearls were embroidered in a narrow band around the top of the dress; poofy bands of white silk gauze circled her upper arms just below her shoulders. The bodice of the dress was tight, showing off her slender waist.

Relena hadn't been able to completely persuade the embroiderers not to put too much effort on the dress. They had spent days sewing a delicate pattern of birds singing on leafy branches in gold thread on the bodice. The skirt was long, trailing the ground several feet behind her. It was a beautiful ivory color that reminded Relena of the pieces of driftwood she had seen scattered on various beaches, bleached the color of snow by the sun and worn smooth by the ocean waves. It ended in a delicate trim of lace that had been made with care by a nobleman's wife who had presented it to Relena a week before in her rooms. She had curtsied deeply with tear-filled eyes when Relena accepted it and thanked her.

"It's time, Miss Relena," said one of her attendants, a young girl about eighteen years old. She giggled. "We won't be able to call you 'Miss' Relena for very much longer."

Relena tried to manage a soft smile for the girl, even as she felt the blood draining from her face. Her fingers trembled, and she clasped them in front of her, then moved them once more to restlessly smooth her dress.

"Hush, child," an older woman reprimanded the girl. "The poor girl is nervous enough as it is. You watch your tongue, or I'll have _you _out there in this wedding dress."

"I wouldn't mind it," said the third attendant, a young woman of about twenty, holding the veil in her hands. "Think of it—married to Quatre Raberba Winner!" She pulled the veil down smoothly over Relena's face. Then she turned to pluck a bouquet of red roses from a small table nearby. She handed them to Relena, beaming. Her warm hands clasped Relena's icy ones as she said, "You look absolutely beautiful. A true princess today, and tomorrow a queen!"

Relena dipped her head in a slow, deep nod. Then, feeling as though her knees would give out at any moment, she stepped off the podium she had been standing on and walked into the empty hall. Before her were two large oak doors, stained a deep ebony brown. Two men waited for her there, an attendant and her brother. The walls on either side of her were filled with dancing cherubim whose eyes sparkled at her, one minute the eyes of jubilant children, the next the blood filled eyes of savage beasts. Her feet carried her steadily closer to those doors while her mind trembled. Surely Milliardo and the other man could see her fear. She must be shivering with it. Surely when she got close enough they would be able to hear her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

Milliardo smiled at her as she drew closer. He held out his right arm for her to take. She reached out and almost stumbled to it, so anxious was she for something to support her.

The door opened.

Music whirled around her—the Wedding March. She and Milliardo began their stately walk down the aisle. Through her veil, Relena could see dozens of faces, haloed in misty white, staring at her. She could hear murmurs of amazement and appreciation floating toward her from all sides, filling her consciousness with a subtle roar, like snow tumbling down a steep mountainside.

The chapel, she saw as her eyes darted around it, was beautiful. The wooden walls were the same smooth, dark ebony as the doors. Scarlet curtains fell down the walls in wine-colored waterfalls to pool at the floor. Between each of the curtains was an exquisite stained-glass window, depicting scenes from the Bible in a full spectrum of colors. Above the windows were small, private balconies that were shrouded in shadow. At the end of the aisle, three steps rose to a large dais where the priest, garbed in white robes, waited behind the altar. Quatre waited for her at the base of the steps. Relena was too far away to discern his expression through the veil, but his face was turned toward her. Sunlight streamed in through one of the windows, this one depicting Jesus in heaven with a golden halo around his head. Quatre's hair was also alight with gold.

The bride's maids and the groom's men were arranged on the dais to either side of the podium. Noin, Sally, Hilde, and Iria wore ivory dresses similar to Relena's, though less opulent. They sparkled in their places as though they were jewels set with care into an already beautiful tapestry in order to make it shine just a little more. Across from them Wufei, Duo, and Rashid stood, looking somber in their black tuxedos.

They were drawing closer to the dais. It seemed as though Milliardo was carrying her along with him; she couldn't feel her legs moving. She felt so cold. She just wanted to wrap her arms around her bare shoulders and collapse in a heap on the floor. All those people were watching her. Their eyes were burning into her, making her stomach churn. Dazzling gray spots were welling up at the edges of her vision; she broke out in a cold sweat, fine tremors running down her arms.

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I'm not going to make it. I'm going to faint right here.

Milliardo tightened his grip on her arm. She looked up at him. He was gazing at her with concern in his eyes. He looked forward again. She swallowed apprehensively, then she heard him humming softly. It was an old song, one that was popular before the war of 195. She remembered it being about something silly—a girl and her lover planning to fly away to the moon. She tried to remember the lyrics.

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They may not understand what we know, baby.

Hearts may ache for the wrong reasons.

If this is forbidden love,

I'd gladly sink into Hell, just to be with you.

I need you.

But your spirit pulls me higher.

Soaring, dipping, tumbling love.

Now that we're together,

I know what I want for all eternity—

Take me to the moon.

Nausea crashed over her in a wave, the force of it stripping her soul bare of reason, leaving her feeling vulnerable.

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Heero…

What she felt now, she couldn't put into coherent thoughts. The chaos in her heart was pulling at her, dragging her inexorably down into murky darkness. Her steps started to falter.

They were a few feet away from the dais when she looked up to see Quatre smiling at her.

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An angel…he looks so joyful…

He held out his hand to her, his eyes gazing steadily at her face. Milliardo stopped, and Quatre walked toward her. She offered him her hand. When he took it and felt her trembling, his gaze filled with concern and an understanding that made her heart beat more steadily.

As he led her up the steps, he whispered softly, "It's all right. I won't let you fall."

Trowa leaned back against one wall of the balcony, one hand clutching the banister he was sitting on. The Wedding March had just ended; the bride and groom were in their places. The priest was beginning to speak, his powerful voice surging to the back of the chapel and soaring to the ceiling.

"Dearly beloved—we gather here today to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony."

"Bonds that last a lifetime," Trowa said bitterly, craning his head around to peer down upon the spectacle, his face half covered by the shadows in the balcony. Hundreds of guests were seated below him, sprawled in a plain of festive colors. The windows shed mercurial light over them that changed moment by moment, from cerulean to scarlet to emerald to gold. Two windows depicting scenes of heaven flanked those who stood on the dais.

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Angels fly around them and the people shout their names to the heavens. There's no place in this for Nanashi.

So he had hidden himself in this dark refuge to watch as his love willingly sold himself to aid in the success of world peace.

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This is necessary, and that's what makes it so hard to bear.

Trowa had spent the night watching Quatre sleep from the oak tree outside his window. Quatre had tossed in his bed for half the night. Then, at false dawn, his mouth lifted from the scowl it had been frozen in. Serenity stole over his features, softening them until he shone with child-like innocence. His arms wrapped around a pillow, he buried his face into it, and slept peacefully until morning. Trowa would have given anything if he could have been sure that he was the one Quatre had dreamt of that night.

As Trowa gazed down upon Quatre now, he felt rather than saw the same peace radiating from him. Trowa leaned farther over the balcony, wanting to bury himself in that peacefulness. It spoke to him of something instinctive on a spiritual level, some mysterious piece that all humans had been missing since the creation of the universe—until it had come to rest in one angelic boy. If only he could touch it…find out what it was. He reached out one slim, graceful hand.

"I do."

Trowa jerked his hand to his chest and sat back in the shadows.

Heero leaned against his couch in his London flat, clutching a pillow to his chest, his knees pulled up. He rested his chin on the pillow and watched with brooding eyes as Quatre and Relena stood with clasped hands before the altar. Milliardo had joined ranks with the other groom's men and was beaming at his little sister. Light spun into delicate strands of gold illuminated Relena and Quatre. The television camera moved smoothly toward them until Heero could see Quatre's face clearly. Quatre was looking at Relena with an expression that was half tenderness and half admiration. His thumbs rubbed little circles on the backs of Relena's hands. Heero thought for a moment that he saw a tremor run through them.

He felt like a thief, hiding there, countries away from his duty to Relena. Calling it duty was the only shackle that kept him chained in London. He wanted to steal her away from that chapel and hide her somewhere, in a haven for both of them. But living wasn't about taking what you wanted. The war had taught him that; Relena had taught him how to make living bearable. So far, they had both lived successfully. Now all he had to do was stay away from her. He could make things easier for himself that way.

His heart leapt into his throat as he saw her draw in a shuddering breath.

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Could she—?

"Relena, what did I do?"

However, the moment had passed. Quatre was whispering to her. Her hands had stopped trembling, her breathing slowed.

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It doesn't matter.

His eyes narrowed in the dark, and his fingernails dug into the pillowcase as he tried to unclench the icy fingers from around his heart.

"I do."

Heero growled low in his throat.

"Whosoever protests this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Trowa turned and swept from the balcony, making his way through the silent halls to the busy streets outside.

Heero stood and lunged toward the television, punching the power button off with a finger. He strode toward his bedroom; his fingers ripped the pillowcase without him realizing it.

Quatre slipped the ring on Relena's finger, clasping his warm hand over the cool band of gold until it warmed against Relena's skin. She sighed softly as she looked at it shining on her finger; it was the color of melted sunbeams and reminded her of the halo she had imagined earlier. Her shoulders felt lighter, and she almost cried with relief. She slipped his ring onto his finger and saw wonder dawning in his eyes.

He took the veil gently between his fingers and lifted it over her head. He stared into her eyes for a long moment after that; Relena felt that he was asking for her permission. She took a small step toward him, and he gathered her into his arms, bending his head until their foreheads almost touched. His lips brushed against hers, and the guests cheered. Relena felt stronger in his embrace, as if she had been floating away from herself like wisps of smoke carried away by the breeze, and he had called her back.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

In answer, she kissed him again, feeling his arms press her to him. The kiss deepened until the world was filled with light and the cheers of the multitude were drowned out.


	3. Leaving

AN:Gomen nasai!!!I'm so sorry this took me so long! ^_^;My only excuse is that I've been really busy lately, and it is my opinion that the homework load in high schools should seriously be reduced.And along with that, I've been busy with all the clubs that I'm in and with a college class, so I haven't gotten to write as much as I'd like.Most of the time that I did get to use for writing was dedicated to working on a Gundam Wing round robin that I'm involved with. (I do some site maintenance there, also.)Anyway, I'm back, and I'm not planning on neglecting this story anymore.Gomen again—Piper Rose

Relena woke to a room tinted misty blue with early morning.She stretched, reveling in the coolness of the sheets against her legs and the warmth of Quatre's arm around her waist.Cupping his hand in hers, she heard him sigh softly; he wasn't awake yet.She slipped out of his loose embrace, turning to look at him after she slid out of the bed.He always had an air of innocence about him as he slept.It would be lost when he opened his eyes, though, for they had seen too much death.His childlike features were sobering reminders of what might have been had humanity only been content to live their lives without seeking to change their destinies, and his solemn eyes were mirrors that could trap a person's soul if they sought to trace the paths of their history.When he smiled, however, they brightened into badges of courage, dearly bought and proudly worn, that proclaimed the result of the war.We survived.Death touched us all, and we all lost something.But we're here, and we can teach others, the children born free of the blemish of war.

_You bare your soul to the world by wearing it openly on your face.That's why people love you, or even fear you, for you represent what humanity has been running from throughout it's whole existence, _Relena thought.

Relena moved to the window, softly, because it didn't seem right to disturb the birth of a new day with even a whisper of sound.She brushed the sheer, white curtain aside with her hand and peered out the window into the courtyard below.

## Have I been running, too?

She had been humbled greatly in the first month of her marriage to Quatre.Not one complaint ever came from his lips.She had seen anger, yes, but it was never directed at someone who had wronged him, only at those who threatened innocents.He dealt amiably even with his public enemies.For awhile, she had even thought that he was distancing himself from her and not letting her see his inner heart, but if he was distancing her, then he was distancing himself also.He was always putting others before himself, especially Relena.It made her sick at heart to think that she might be using him to heal herself.Once she had realized this, she made an effort to lift some of her burden from his shoulders.Their marriage had improved almost at once.Before, it had been one-sided, with Quatre nurturing her.Now they supported each other, and Relena had even come to love him, though she felt unworthy of him at times.

A maid walked out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard, a broom tucked under her arms as she rubbed them with her hands in an effort to warm them.She took the broom to the stones, sweeping with vigorous strokes, her breath misting in the air.

There was still a barrier between them.Relena couldn't tell what it was exactly.Sometimes, though, when they were talking late at night, stretches of silence would insinuate themselves between sentences.She would look at Quatre only to see him staring up at the dark ceiling, one hand clutching the sheets, his eyes moving without seeming to be focused on anything.Or perhaps he would touch her arm gently when she had become lost in a tangle of thoughts that doubled back upon themselves endlessly until she was no longer sure if she was a dreaming child or an old woman whose dreams had perished in the fire of hate.

I don't think that either of us know what our thoughts are trying to tell us, or at the very least, I don't.

She thought about Heero, of course, but those thoughts were only the fragments of memories.She could see the same snatches of memories in Quatre's eyes when the shadows of night fell over them, but she had done her best to not worry about what this marriage had cost both of them.That would accomplish nothing, and should Quatre ever need her to help dull the pain of lost hopes, then she was determined to be ready to repay what he had already given her.She would accept her position, and be glad of it.She would be a worthy wife.

The maid was singing as she worked, her broom swishing a rhythm.Her voice spiraled upward, but she lost the note midway through.Laughing at her mistake, she started again.

"Good morning," Quatre said softly from behind her.Relena turned to see him propped up on one elbow, watching her.She smiled at him as he yawned.

"I hope she didn't wake you," Relena said apologetically."That meeting lasted longer than expected last night."

"Yes, but the preparations are going well.Better than I expected.And I'd rather wake up to someone singing than have everyone tiptoe around in a hush."

Relena knelt on the bed, leaning over him."Even if it's not opera?" she asked, grinning.

"Of course," he said with a teasing smile."I don't have to dress up for this.Besides, moments like this are special."

Relena sat back, her hands folded in her lap.She turned her face away from him, back toward the window.

How can you see everything so clearly?You always have such an appreciation for everything in the world, as if it's teaching you something new every moment.

"Relena—"

She jumped slightly, and had started to turn back toward him when the vidphone on the bedside table beeped, a picture appearing on the screen.

"Wake up call, courtesy of Duo Maxwell!"Duo grinned at them, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he registered their position."Umm…I'm not…interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, one hand behind his head as he laughed in embarrassment."You really shouldn't have a phone in your room you know," he said, losing his embarrassment as Relena and Quatre also blushed."What happened to the usual policy of 'speak to twenty different secretaries before you are blessed with the presence of important personages'?"

Relena recovered her composure first and smiled at him."Only important people know this line."

Duo gaped at her in mock surprise."You don't say?I'm important!"

Quatre laughed warmly at his old friend."You knew that already, Duo."

"Yeah, you're right," Duo said shrugging."What're you doing up this early anyway?It's not like you have a pestering girlfriend watching over your shoulder while you do chores at ungodly hours in the morning or anything.You two should be living in comfort and storing up all your energy for facing down those old farts in the office."He turned to Quatre."Where're all the cute maids who are supposed to be taking care of you?"

Quatre had climbed out of the bed and walked over to the closet, where he was searching for a suit."I don't want to cause them even more work, Duo," he said, his voice oddly flat.Relena looked at him curiously, and then dismissed her worry.He only sounded different because he was facing away from her.

"Well, at least you should be sleeping in some."

Relena looked at Duo questioningly."When did you suddenly get so paternal?"

Duo grinned broadly at her."Got to keep an eye out for my two favorite kids!Seriously, though, you two are going to wear yourselves thin if you keep going the way you have been," he said with a significant look at Quatre."Why can't you send a lesser official to Moscow to negotiate?"

Quatre held out a hand to silence Relena's protest."She'll be fine, Duo.We'll both be fine.And that's even if we have to get up early."

Relena sighed and looked away from both of them.She wanted to go to Moscow.Why couldn't they see that?Catching sight of the time, she rose quickly to her feet and headed for the bathroom.

Quatre moved to sit right next to the vidphone as soon as the bathroom door had closed."You're not as concerned as you seem about our sleep if you're calling this early in the morning, Duo.You don't need to worry so much about her.She'll be fine."

Duo's expression immediately darkened."Quatre, you don't understand the situation out there," he hissed quietly and earnestly."Those people are only concerned about causing as much chaos as they can.Picking off Relena will only ensure that they get noticed much sooner than they originally thought.That's when they can start causing real problems.I can guarantee you that her visit won't go unnoticed.They'll be getting spies in place right about now," Duo said, turning his face away.His voice was raw; Quatre couldn't tell if it was laced with anger or anxiety or both.

Don't doubt her, Duo.Please—don't doubt her.

"She'll be accompanied by guards," Quatre said calmly."And several Preventers as well."

"More targets," Duo said shortly.

What do you want me to do? Quatre asked Duo silently, hoping his face conveyed his message.I can't stop her.I can't go in her place.I've done what they asked of me a month ago.Relena's better.She wants to help those people and bring peace back to the Earth Sphere, and she knows that she's needed.She's willing to give her life for this.

Quatre sighed shakily and swiped his arm fiercely across his eyes.

Duo's eyes narrowed with concern."Quatre…buddy—"

Quatre smiled bitterly at him."Some rescuer I turned out to be, Duo.I thought that she might die back then.Oh, I've made her better than ever all right."He hung his head."Now she's not even fighting it anymore," he whispered softly, his throat closing on his tears.

Relena leaned on the cool marble counter in the bathroom, trying to calm her churning stomach.Her clammy palms left wet spots on the countertop.She lifted her head, brushing her hair aside, and looked at her face in the mirror.She looked calm and dignified, though she felt nothing of the sort.Her hair was pulled back neatly, and her forest green dress suit was elegant and tidy.

"I shouldn't be getting these nervous bugs after so many years," she said softly, trying to match her inner turmoil to her outer composure.She took a few slow, deep breaths.

Why is Duo so worried?He was trying to hide it; I'm sure he doesn't want me to know.

She wondered what they were saying about her.Are they worried about the rebels?Do they think that I'll be attacked?

"Quatre, I want to show them how much you've helped me.I've got to do this.You had faith in me.The people of the world used to have faith in me, also.I betrayed them once, but I won't do it again.When we have peace once more, then I'll have kept all my promises."

Again looking at her reflection, she managed a shaky smile."I haven't broken any of my promises to you, Quatre, love, and I don't plan on starting now.You won't regret your sacrifices."

Duo pasted a bright smile on his face as Relena walked into the room.He winked cheekily at her as he took in her outfit."You clean up nice, missy," he said, mimicking a gruff old man's voice."In my day, the women weren't half as hot."

"You're falling out of character, Duo." Quatre said, hoping that Relena couldn't sense anything of their earlier conversation.Several maids walked down the hall outside their room, chattering loudly.

"I guess it's true what they say then," Duo said in his normal voice."The new day doesn't fly until the lovebirds have left the nest.Speaking of that, I've got to get going.Hilde's going to be up soon, and I still haven't cleaned the kitchen."

"You're doing this voluntarily, Duo?" Relena asked, surprised.

Duo shrugged nonchalantly."Yeah, but don't spread the word, okay?It would ruin my reputation."He winked once more, and the screen shut off with a beep.

Quatre opened the door and stepped into the hallway, Relena right behind him.He turned in time to see a flicker of movement disappearing around the corner.

Trowa…

Trowa had been assigned to the palace guard, and after that had made himself completely invisible.Quatre sometimes caught a glimpse of him, but he never saw Trowa's face, nor any other sign that would reassure him that Trowa was all right.

Quatre hadn't been surprised to find Trowa alone in the mess on-board Peacemillion.The tall boy was often by himself.Even when others were with him, it seemed as though he was separated from them by a great distance.Quatrethought that he was probably the one who knew the most about Trowa.He enjoyed the other's company as though Trowa was a rock that he could stand on while he waited for the sea of war around him to calm.

Now though, Trowa was brooding, and his face was dark with worry.His head was resting against the wall, his elbow up on one of the tables and his eyes gazing toward the far wall without seeming to notice it at all.He spoke to Quatre before the other boy had managed to even sit down.

"Have you ever thought…that if you could step outside of yourself for only one moment, the whole world would make sense?"

Quatre sat on the bench across from Trowa, his elbows on his thighs.He lifted his gaze to meet Trowa's eyes, which had darkened to the green of a forest locked in shadow.

"I don't think that war will ever make sense," Quatre said, lowering his eyes.He had to concentrate to keep his hands still.

"No, war is something that I understand.I'm not the only one, either.Heero knows war, too."He sighed."I was talking about other things."

At the foot of the stairs that led to the open hatch of a small, private jet, Quatre took Relena into his arms.She rested her cheek gently against his chest, linking her arms around his waist.

"Was it hard to understand them when they didn't have faith in you, Quatre?" Relena murmured.Quatre craned his head to look down at her, his arms tensing slightly.She sighed without looking up at him."I mean the colonists—during the war," she said, then tilted her head to gaze up into his eyes."I…I'm not sure what to say to convince them…to get them to trust me."Again she looked downward, as if she were ashamed.

He rested his cheek lightly on her head, pondering what to tell her."Just banish their doubts and quell their fears, Relena.They're unbalanced and afraid, with good reason.The Earth Sphere has come to distrust its rulers.We favor people with brave faces more than faceless agencies, so you have to show them yourself and your trust in them."

He felt her nod slightly."And if I tell you that I will come back alive, will you trust me?"

He nodded mutely, afraid to speak in case he should say something that would make her worry.She smiled at him—he thought that it seemed a little sad—then stood up on tiptoe to press her lips against his before turning and climbing the stairs to the hatch.

Quatre watched the plane take off from beside the now-empty hangar.Even from that distance, the plane's engines swept back his hair and ruffled his clothes.He watched as it circled once around the airfield then disappeared off into the northern sky.In his mind, he could see her looking down at him and the land surrounding her home.

"Good luck, Relena," he whispered.Please God, don't let anything happen to her.

He was so absorbed in catching one last glimpse of the plane, perhaps the reflection of the sun off of its metal skin, that he almost missed the soft caress of a voice behind him.

"You should take your own advice and trust in her more.It hurts her to think that you might be hiding something from her."

Quatre felt a hot flash of anger that he instantly regretted.However, he couldn't keep traces of it out of his voice when he spoke, his back still turned on the person who had addressed him."How can you understand everything in just one glance?"

Trowa stepped up beside Quatre, an inscrutable expression on his face, his eyes focused on a point far away on the horizon.Quatre turned to look at him, running his eyes over Trowa's face.It seemed more worn than the last time Quatre had been near him.Of course, what do I know about what's happened to him since then?How many of my friends have I failed to comfort lately?Quatre's eyes widened in surprise as Trowa turned toward him suddenly.He couldn't stop from pulling his fingers away as Trowa's hand brushed softly against them.

Trowa smiled in grim amusement at Quatre, which made him blush slightly."Just show her who you are, Quatre.That should be enough from you for anyone."

Quatre cast his eyes frantically about the ground at his feet as he searched for something to say."I've have been…I thought…"He stopped with a frustrated sigh."Who am I to her?"He lifted his eyes to Trowa's, and would have regretted the move, for he couldn't turn his eyes away, except that Trowa's eyes were absolutely, breathtakingly clear and…beautiful.Within a moment, he felt that they were the most familiar sight in the world, and yet, they were always changing, spots of golden brown bubbling in their depths and bursting into stars at the surface in the way that a thought one has been pondering comes to light in certain, exhilarating truth.

He thought that he might have seen surprise and aching despair show themselves in Trowa's eyes for a moment before once more disappearing, but if there had been a change, it had happened too quickly for him to be sure that he had seen it."You're her husband," he said softly, turning away and striding smoothly toward the gate of the airfield, arms at his side and head raised.

That night, Quatre tossed under the covers, arms reaching into the emptiness on the other side of the bed.

There was mist all around him, a pearly lavender that seemed to shine as it flowed by him.Far off, to his left or right he couldn't tell, he heard the rumbling hiss or waves sliding to shore.Small stones shifted and smacked together under his feet.He was jogging blindly, not sure of his destination—if he would get there or if he even had one.Then he heard a voice whisper, so close he could feel the heavy mist stirring as the speaker's breath cut through it.

"Quatre, I love you."

He reached out to touch the person; the fog was swirling around him, making him dizzy and lightheaded.He felt that if he could identify the mysterious presence then he would be steady again.If he could reach a little farther…

He hand met only fog that played through his outstretched fingers, leaving little beads of moisture trembling in its wake.

He stood there for a moment, waiting for the voice to return or for the person to touch his hand but felt nothing.He turned reluctantly to keep walking.The stones seemed to skitter away from his feet as soon as he touched them, and he stumbled.Then, he heard a different voice calling him over the rushing waves.

"Quatre, help me!"

Far off, there was an eddy in the mist that swirled for a moment before dissipating.Through that small window, Quatre saw Relena standing with one hand clutched to her chest, the other reaching toward him.She wore a dress that looked like a part of the mist.Wind pulled at it, and Relena shrank away, looking as vulnerable as a child alone in a storm.Her blonde hair was alight with a red glow that came from the sky above her and left scarlet shadows on her face that looked like blood.

He started to run, calling her name.She cried out again as the mist enveloped her once more.He ran even faster, heart pounding and joining with the leering murmurs of the wind through the mist and the dull, heavy rush of the waves in an awful cacophony.

The stones tumbled away from him, and he fell, cutting his palms on their sharp edges.Getting to his feet, he looked frantically about him for any sign of her.He stumbled on, calling her name in an awful voice he hardly recognized, tripping again, several more times, until he lay panting on the stones.Waves slid over him, making his wounds sting.Despairing tears ran down his cheeks to mingle with the water the mist left there.He grew cold and fervently wished that he could be one of those unfeeling stones.

Quatre jerked awake, slowly becoming aware of his body again.For a moment, he had felt like he was falling, and even as he saw his room slowly coming into focus from the darkness around him, he had to run a hand over the mattress beneath him to reassure himself that the stone-covered beach had been left behind.Cool air stroked his cheeks, which were slightly warm and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Then, full remembrance of the dream fell upon him.What's going to happen to Relena?I've got to go, now.

Even as the thought entered his mind, he threw the sheets off of himself and swung his legs over the bed—

He froze, his eyes trained on a minute movement he had seen in one corner of the dark room.Stilling his breathing until he could no longer hear it, he strained every sense in order to uncover whether this threat lurking in the dark was real or imaginary.A gust of wind weaved through the branches of the large oak tree outside, and Quatre turned to see silver moonbeams slide across leaves that were clearly visible through the open space where the window that he had closed before he went to sleep had been eased silently open while he lay dreaming.

He stood warily, still watching even as he sidled toward the door.The whisper of cloth came from the corner, along with a flash of silver that snaked toward him, cold, too fast to dodge, though he tried.His assailant followed him, seeming to be nothing more than the dagger in his hand.It winked at him cunningly, teasing him as he struck out and missed, fell onto the bed and rolled.The light fell away from it as it stabbed down, and for a moment, Quatre thought that it had missed.His eyes on the door, feet scrambling for purchase on the tangle of sheets, he felt the cold steel bite deep into his back under his rib cage.He slumped bonelessly onto the bed as the dagger was drawn out of him, and the ice was replaced with fire.

His wordless shout as he was stabbed brought someone to the door, light flooding the room.A shot rang out, followed by a crash in the branches of the tree. With an effort, Quatre managed to turn his head slightly, but instead of catching a glimpse of his avenger, his eyes fell on the scarlet blood flung like an outstretched wing across the sheets as if it, even though it didn't have a mate, would attempt to carry his body away even as his soul flew.As a hand trembled against his cheek, he finally knew who had come.His eyes closed as he sighed out the first part of the familiar name.

AN#2:*from behind a table that should (hopefully) protect her from any flying objects thrown her way *Don't worry, guys. I promise the next part will be out by next weekend, Sunday at the latest. ^_^


	4. The Impact of Dreams

The doctors had gotten used to him.He didn't know if it had been around three or four in the morning when their eyes had finally stopped sliding over to glance at the thin young man sitting rigidly in his self-appointed post in the corner before jumping to linger on their patient with a grim air that deepened the shadows under their eyes and washed the color out of their faces.If he were any sort of poet, he would have only heightened his anxiety by imagining them as shades, servants of the god of the dead who maintained some semblance of life by bringing the souls of the dying to rest at their master's feet.The comparison had run through his mind several times, but it brought no feeling along with it.His head told him that they were helping, so he sat quietly.

A breeze ran cold fingers over the back of his neck, and he brought his eyes up, noticing that the room had lightened to gray.He was in a large, sparsely furnished room on the first floor of the Earth Sphere United Nation's headquarters.Quatre lay unmoving under the white sheets of the bed across from Trowa's seat.Trowa took little comfort in the prognosis the doctors had given him.Quatre would recover, they said.The dagger had missed his major organs.Yet, each breath that he labored to bring into his lungs seemed to drain more color out of his face.His lashes lay like shrouds over his palled cheeks, and the breeze that skipped merrily across the room did little to lift his bangs from his sweat-streaked forehead.

Trowa glanced at Quatre from the corner of his eye, watching the blonde boy from behind his bang.He felt suddenly wary of the other boy.He wasn't sure why he was showing so much of himself to Quatre now, except that he knew that it was a calculated risk.He wanted Quatre to know him.It disturbed him, though, that he wasn't sure what he wanted to let the other pilot know.

Quatre looked slightly surprised, and thought a moment about Trowa's comment before answering."You're talking about peace," he said almost as if he spoke to himself."You don't have to study anything to know that, Trowa.It's inside all of us.I don't believe that anyone's life is locked in constant battle."He looked up at Trowa with a warm smile."There's a part inside everyone that war can't touch."

Trowa looked down at his hands, one draped over the edge of the table, the other unmoving on his lap.Examining his feelings quickly, he decided that he felt restless.Not as if he were about to go into battle, though.He couldn't place where the feeling came from, or if it was even a feeling at all and not some vague stirring in the back of his mind that was trying to tell him something.Suddenly, a picture of Catherine imposed itself in his thoughts.He looked at her sparkling blue eyes fondly before tucking the unbidden memory in the back of his mind.

"When you played the flute with me…" Quatre said slowly."What did you feel then?"

Trowa turned to face Quatre, putting his feet on the ground and both hands on his lap."Nothing."

Quatre's eyes widened slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was tinged with shock and perhaps a little sadness."Trowa…nothing?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at Quatre and instead forced his eyes to look past the other pilot to the wall behind him."I don't think I began to feel until I forgot my life," he said slowly, trying to remember how it felt to stand, exhausted, in the rain and look up to see a concerned face that he felt he should know but couldn't remember.He felt…

"Catherine," Quatre said, nodding slightly, in the manner of a person who stumbled upon the right conclusion after only just being shown the path."You see?"

Trowa shook his head and heaved a ragged sigh."That was just a fake.It didn't last.Maybe that time was just meant to show the soldier what he could not have.ZERO gave me back my real memories, my real self."He laughed, and even he felt the bitterness in it."They say that Wing ZERO shows people their destinies.Maybe my destiny is my past.Perhaps my path just leads in a circle—or maybe it goes nowhere at all."

"No!" Trowa was surprised at the vehemence in Quatre's voice, and he couldn't stop himself from jumping slightly as the other boy grabbed his arms just below his shoulders."I won't let you believe that, Trowa!There's so much more that you can be," his voice had dropped to a whisper, though it held a note of desperation and sincerity that held Trowa spellbound.Their eyes were locked together, and the whole room became nothing more than deep black pools in the middle of blue clouds."You fought even when you didn't remember that you were a soldier.It wasn't a way of life for you then, and you didn't even want to do it.But you did, and don't lie to yourself by saying that it was some instinct that remained from your past.The only instinct that could have driven you to do that is love."

"Was…" Trowa protested weakly, his voice sounding strained.

"Is," Quatre said firmly."You don't have to stay on the path; the forest on either side isn't as dark as you might think.And you won't get lost," he said, his eyes shining with determination."I'll help you."

Along with the steady breeze, the open window behind Trowa caught the gentle music of a wind chime that hung just outside of it.Refracted light from the metal pieces of the wind chime flowed languidly over the bed sheets, and Trowa found himself watching them, his thoughts showing no more direction than they did.He was exhausted, and as he bit back a yawn, he found his eyes traveling back to Quatre's face as they had done throughout the whole night.Except this time, Quatre's eyes met his own, and he gave Trowa a weary smile.

"Thank you, Trowa," Quatre said softly.

"I'm glad…" Trowa's voice faded away in the middle of the sentence, and he turned to look at the table beside Quatre's bed, the wind chime's song rising exultantly behind him as if it, too, had been waiting all night for Quatre to awaken.

"Trowa?"

Trowa stood slowly, resisting the urge to fall back into the chair.He wasn't all too sure that there would be anything behind him to catch him.He walked to Quatre's side and knelt on the floor across from Quatre's face."I'm glad…that you're all right and that—"Again his voice failed him.He was about to look down to gather his courage and silently berate himself for being such a coward, when a slight movement caught his eye.Quatre was holding his hand out to him.

"Don't worry about me so much," he said, his voice still soft.His face seemed to grow paler with every word he whispered.Trowa hesitantly put his hand into Quatre's and saw Quatre smile and felt his hand close weakly around his own."They are saying that I'll be all right, aren't they?I know I will be; I can feel it."

"You should rest," Trowa said.He couldn't help his eyes flickering back to their joined hands.Quatre's mouth turned up again into a tiny smile, but this time his eyes darkened.The smile faded after only a moment.Trowa nodded."Relena."

"Something's going to happen to her, Trowa.I had a dream," he said in a rush.

"I'll go now and take care of it," Trowa said, but he noticed that the troubled look didn't leave Quatre's face even then."There's not anything else, is there?" he asked anxiously, wondering if maybe he should squeeze Quatre's hand to bring him back.Quatre shook his head, and Trowa saw the weariness that etched his face and made him look as fragile and ragged as broken glass.Trowa got to his feet, and Quatre's eyes closed.His hand fell away a moment later, and he lost some of the pain on his face.

As Trowa's legs carried him from the room, his thoughts still by the bedside, he once again heard the wind chimes compose a new melody behind him.

The sky outside was a uniform gray that seemed to dull the color of the grass and trees.Trowa walked down the sidewalk that led from the Earth Sphere United Nation's mansion to the Preventers headquarters, which was on the same property.As he walked, he noticed one wispy, white cloud had broken away from the mass of gray and was being blown along in a fit of the wind's energetic abandon.He stopped to watch it for a moment, wondering how the molecules of that particular cloud had managed to break away from the others and how it had become so perfectly white.The wind broke through the cloud, splitting it into ragged scraps that scattered in different directions.Trowa let his eyes drop to the pavement beneath his feet and began to walk again.His foot stopped in mid-air, however, when he saw a little spot of light dancing on the ground before him.The clouds were blowing away; the sun was coming out behind the mansion and reflecting off a tiny wind chime that hung outside a window on the upper story of the building.

Quatre…

Trowa began to jog toward the Preventers building.Behind him, the lone spot of light faded as the sunlight washed over the pavement.Trowa felt it shining on his hair and warming his back.He smiled, and as the warmth touched his hand, he could almost feel another holding gently onto it.

Noin bent over her desk and scrawled a short note to her husband on a piece of paper, telling him that she was going to meet Sally Po in their favorite lunch spot, a small coffee shop in town.She tucked the note under a paper weight and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, smiling as she thought of the stories that Sally would most likely be telling her today.For the past week, Sally had been assigned to be the bodyguard for the Minister of Colony Commerce's spoilt son.I can almost see her joyful smile now as she's remembering the wine he spilled on her at a fancy dinner or the time he hid her radio in the laundry.Bet she spent the past week wishing for a good war to get her out of there.

Noin immediately sobered as she remembered that there would likely be a "good" war in the near future.Quatre Winner might still be alive, but some group out there was holding a grudge against him, his wife, and very likely, the whole Earth Sphere United Nation.

"The worst trouble starts when people feel that their whole way of life is wrong.Then they feel justified in erasing the whole system and starting over."She'd seen it happen once in her lifetime, and she knew that if this knew threat gained enough power, it wouldn't leave anything behind.Yet, she believed in the system, believed it was right with all her heart, so these people who weren't happy with their lives were her enemies.The only problem is that we're not supposed to have any enemies.But, even as we all curse them for hurting Quatre, can we truly say that they are our enemies?Who can blame people for attempting to make their lives better?

She was so deeply buried in her thoughts that she almost ran into Trowa as the young man barreled through the door.She flung her head up and plastered herself to the wall as he ran past her.She was about to call out to him, but he stopped only a moment after he had run past her and came up to her with worried determination in his eyes.

"Noin," he said, nodding briskly to her.He stopped for a moment, his eyes darting around the narrow hallway as if he was gathering his thoughts.Finally, he met her gaze again."Please, let me go to Moscow to protect Relena," he said softly and urgently.

Noin nodded immediately.She knew where he had spent the last night and much of the morning."Does Quatre think that she's in danger?"

"He said that he had a dream."

"All right.You have my permission to go immediately, and I'll tell Une about it.Make sure you keep in constant contact, Trowa," she called to him as he started to stride down the hall.

She sighed softly as she gazed wistfully at the lawn outside, half in light half in shadow as the sun had just begun to chase the clouds away.Lunch would have to wait.

Two nights after she had left her home, Relena fell back onto the bed in her hotel room, closing her eyes and stretching luxuriously.Every part in her body either ached or felt as though it had been pushed past the point of weariness.The meetings that she had taken part in daily after she arrived had gone on so long today that the faces of the people she had been talking to had blurred with the numbers on the pages in front of her which represented all the people she could not see—the people she was supposed to be helping.She couldn't help but feel guilty when she realized that she didn't really know what was plaguing them.The numbers said that there was a housing and food shortage, but the numbers didn't show the tears of the women watching their starving children play bare-footed in the crowded feet or the strained stubbornness of the men who fought to keep their families' place in the shelters.The numbers didn't show her what those people saw everyday that made them want to fight, and because of that, she felt absolutely useless.And alone.She felt more alone now than she had after Heero had left her and before she married Quatre.

She was just beginning to ponder this when the vidphone on the desk across the room beeped loudly.Relena got up to see Noin's face appear as the connection was established.

"Is this line secured?" Noin asked by way of a hello.

"Yes," Relena said, nodding."The governor made sure of that when this room was booked for me."

"Personalized service, huh?" Noin asked with a tired smile showing itself at the corner of her mouth."Nice to know that the government at least is behind us."Relena smiled at the older woman and sank into a chair, kicking off her shoes.

"How are things going?" Noin asked, somber now.

"As well as these things usually go.We're making progress in the talks at least."

Noin nodded, not acknowledging the tired faintness of Relena's voice.Noin knew what Relena's life was like; she knew how much Relena could take.Perhaps Relena was tired—definitely more tired than Noin would like her to be, but she had faith that Relena could handle much more than she was burdened with now.Of course, that didn't stop her from feeling resentful that Relena had been forced to handle so great a burden in the first place.

Catching her eyes, Noin fixed Relena with a stern stare."Relena, you have to be very careful.More so now than ever."She sighed bitterly."Quatre was attacked last night," she said with reluctance.Relena's eyes widened, and she gripped her arms, her knuckles turning white with the shock."The doctors say that he'll live, and he was well enough to speak to Trowa earlier.Trowa left for Moscow this morning.He should be arriving soon."

"Why…" Relena said, stumbling over the word.Her eyes felt hot."Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"Relena…" Noin said, looking at her young friend with concern."For awhile we weren't certain that he was going to live.We didn't want to worry you then, in case it would distract you.Then, Trowa told us that Quatre thought you might be in danger, and we had to prepare to send him in to help you."Noin began to speak faster, with more urgency."Relena, you have to promise me that you'll stay in your room and not see anyone until Trowa gets there."

Relena nodded numbly.Noin gave her a smile that was probably meant to be encouraging but instead looked guilty and worried.Then her face disappeared, and Relena allowed the tears to trickle slowly down her cheeks.She pushed herself out of the chair and stumbled the few steps to throw herself on the bed, curling up there and obstinately wiping at the tears that refused to stop falling.

"Why didn't they tell me?" she said, her throat choked with the tears that she wouldn't allow to escape."Oh Quatre, and I wasn't there to help you at all."

For a few minutes she lay tangled in the sheets of the bed with her head buried in a pillow that didn't seem to muffle her sobs very much.A gasp fought its way through her sobs as strong arms closed around her shoulders and lifted her face from the pillow.The arms turned her around gently, and then her head was resting against a warm shoulder.She curled her fingers in the person's shirt and lifted her head to see who it was.

"Heero—"

He stared down at her, his eyes dark, his expression unreadable.Relena had only looked at him for a moment before she felt the tears return.She rested her head against his chest and felt the tears soak into his shirt.Suddenly horrified that she was leaning on him, that her tears were staining his shirt, and that he had even shown up at all, she pushed herself away from him and wiped her eyes, willing the tears to stop.

"Relena…" Heero said with a note of confusion in his voice."It's fine.I heard."

Relena turned away from him and got off the bed."You heard that my husband almost died, and you thought that maybe you could slip in here in the middle of the night and comfort me with your presence—give me a shoulder to cry on?Thanks for making things worse, Heero," she said icily and was rewarded by seeing him reel away from her slightly in shock.However, his eyes never left hers, though he didn't make a reply.

Heero gazed at Relena as she turned away from him, violently striding to the window across the room.He had been expecting the anger, but he had been taken by surprise at how quickly it had come.It stung him a bit.More than a bit, he admitted to himself as his hands, which rested on the sheets, clenched into fists, the only visible signs of the anger that pulsed through his veins.He wasn't angry with Relena.How could he be, when she had caused none of this?He couldn't pinpoint a target for his rage, which made him feel unbalanced.

He saw her shoulder's tremble and realized that she was crying again.Why does everything settle on her?Why can't these people take care of themselves?He had one foot off the bed, about to go to her, when she spoke again in a ragged voice.

"Did we ever have love, Heero?Is love what you feel for the noble man you wake up beside?Or is it what you feel when a man that was lost comes back to you?I don't feel love for the second man, Heero.When someone repeatedly turns their back on you and walks away, you begin to feel that you're turning round and round in a dream.You're not real, Heero.I love my husband."

He walked quickly toward her and pulled her stiff body into his arms, holding her back against his chest."I didn't want to leave," Heero whispered fiercely in her ear.

Relena shook slightly in his arms.He wanted to press her closer to him, but he wasn't sure how she would react.

"I'm…so confused," she whispered, almost to herself."What didn't you want to leave, Heero?Me?Or your job?"

Her tone was so dull that he couldn't tell if she was angry with him or not.Slowly, he turned her around to face him, and his eyes met crystalline blue ones that shimmered with tears that had not yet been shed.His gaze searched her face for a long moment.Even as he felt her gradually warming in his embrace, he saw her eyes fall to the floor uncomfortably.He was about to speak when she stopped him."Don't," she whispered."I don't think I should know."He lifted his hands from her shoulders and took a step backward, but she grabbed his wrists in a gentle grip."Please…don't leave me.I want to be able to hold onto something for a night, instead of waiting for the floor to crumble beneath me.Don't leave, Heero."

A chill wound itself around his heart.He took her hands in his own and pushed them away from him.She looked up at him, hurt showing itself plainly on her face.He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, her gaze still imprinted on his mind in bitter memory.Bending down slightly, he kissed her cheek, soft from the tears that had flowed over it."Get some sleep, Relena," he whispered, straightening and opening his eyes."I'll guard your door tonight."

He turned and was at the door almost before he realized that he had taken a step.He stared down at the doorknob for a moment before placing his hand on the cold metal.Closing his fingers around it with a deliberate movement, he yanked the door open.After he had closed it, he took up a post against the wall opposite it, staring broodingly at the white door long into the night.

After Heero left, Relena sagged against the wall, suddenly unable to support herself."What was I thinking?" she moaned."What did I almost do?"She walked over to the bed and lay down, feeling lightheaded and sick at heart.The fact that we didn't actually do anything excuses nothing, she thought, loathing for herself making tears once more come to her eyes.I deserve nothing like love.I hope that I don't come home to you, Quatre.Hating herself, she slipped into a sleep full of nightmares where her life was an illusion on the surface of a pond, and in the dark water under the surface, her friends' faces ran with blood, and they looked up at her where she floated near the light and asked her, "Why?".

AN:Expect the next part next weekend, guys.As of now, I'm planning on this story only having two more parts, but I'd like to know if you guys want an epilogue.If you do, then I'll go ahead and write one, so tell me what you want in your review. Arigatou. ^_^


	5. In the Shadows

A.N.~ Sorry this is late, everyone.Besides saying that just one more time for a good measure, I wanted to say that I refer to Relena as 'Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft' in this chapter.Let's face it, Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft Winner is just too long, and besides, many well-known officials, celebrities, etc. keep their original names when they get married.Plus, those two names hold a lot of history for her.

One last thing—I decided to add some more chapters to this story.Right now, I'm not sure how many more.This story is really making me think, though, so I want to see how far I can develop it.I'm going to work on a new outline this week, and the next chapter should be out sometime next week.

Trowa moved silently down the shadowed hall, pausing for a moment as a cloud brushed over the moon and bathed his path in blackness.Earlier he had stolen into the room of the two Preventers who had been assigned to guard Relena, waking them to tell them that he had arrived.Paul Kirchwood, codenamed Preventer Storm, had stared at him, blinking owlishly, before grunting an acknowledgement and flopping back down under his covers.His companion, an anonymous lump in the bed across the room, hadn't stirred.

The shadows fled from the cool light of the moon, and Trowa continued on, silent.Even his thoughts were quiet.The hall was lined with large windows, bordered with delicate, white frost that showed the mansions of the rich who lived in Moscow, while the tattered homes of the poor were barely visible on the horizon, seeming to move in a blurred wave under the moonlight.Light streamed in softly through the windows, so that the deep burgundy of the thick carpeting in the hall hadn't lost much of the splendor that it held in the daytime.Actually, Trowa thought, taking more notice of it as he walked, it might look better this way.Red had always been the color of power.Even among animals it was a universal symbol, the passion of war and love, the two scales of life.The red carpeting was meant to reflect the wealth of the occupants of the mansion and to awe visitors with its opulence.However, under the light of the moon, it was transformed into something more muted, something calmer.Under the moonlight, it reminded Trowa of soldiers laughing jovially around a campfire the night after a victory, instead of the blood and rage that came during battle.It reminded him of lovers talking in hushed voices with their arms around each other, instead of the heat of passion and burning touches.It was softer, safer.He felt out of place.

I wonder what they talk about at night…Another cloud cast a shadow in the hall, but Trowa didn't wait for it to pass.He had to make sure that Relena was all right.Moving as if he was part of the shadow himself, he came to her door.

Heero had been expecting a rebuke, and he had expected it to sting him for a while.He hadn't disappointed himself, but he had been surprised to find that, even after he had left her, he was still angry.The muscles in his back were tight.He wanted to get up and pace along the wall.The only way he could keep his fingers from moving restlessly was to clench them into fists.He had been sitting across from Relena's door for over two hours, and still he couldn't name the object that his anger was directed toward.

"Why do I feel this way when everything turned out according to plan?" he growled softly to himself.Relena and Quatre were married; Relena was happy again.Everything was perfect.He shouldn't have a problem—or rather, even if he did have a problem, it shouldn't matter.Everything is perfect for everyone except for me, he thought wonderingly.No—that still wasn't it.He could handle being unhappy; that was routine.He thought for a few more moments, the hallway on either side of him becoming a blur as he lost himself in feelings of anger that seemed to be directed everywhere at once: at Quatre, at himself, at the people in this city who were making his friends unhappy.However, under all the anger he found…concern.

Rising to his feet in one smooth motion, Heero crossed the hall and opened Relena's door silently.The room was dark, long blue curtains stopped the moonlight before it could illuminate Relena's bed.He could still make out her shadow-shrouded form lying under the covers, though, and he went to her, standing next to the bed and looking down at her peaceful face.She had one small hand tucked underneath her chin, and her body was twisted under the covers as though she had been thrown violently into slumber.

"Don't deny it, Heero," Duo said, watching his friend pace back and forth across the tiny room."This is upsetting you more than you want to let on, but you can't afford to keep your mask on now."

"You're wrong, Duo," Heero said gruffly, his hands falling heavily to the counter top as he stopped pacing to look Duo in the eye."I can't go.Do you know what that would do to everything that we accomplished?"

"Oh?" Duo said, his mouth twisted in a bitter smirk."And what exactly did you accomplish by running away?"

Heero felt the anger rise and fall within him in a tide as familiar to him as breathing."She's happy now.Would that have been possible with me there?"

Duo sighed, looking as if he was plagued by a problem that hadn't stopped gnawing at him for quiet some time."I don't know.I don't know if you did the right thing or if we're all damned idiots, playing with something we don't understand.But, when I look at her, when I look at both of them, I think they're running without something that they need.It doesn't make sense," he said, his frustration bubbling to the surface."They look so happy, but there's something that none of us are seeing.It's bugging the hell out of me."

Heero nodded wordlessly.He hadn't seen Relena for the past few months; he hadn't even watched the various news reports about her.

"Heero, go to Moscow.She needs you now.You can't harm anything, not unless you want to, and I know that's the last thing that you'd do."

Heero ran a hand lightly along Relena's forehead, brushing her wispy bangs out of her eyes and feeling calm, as if some part of him felt that everything made sense now and knew what to do.He had no hope of finding that part of himself, though, not tonight.Yet, he didn't want to find it, for that would change everything.He wouldn't be able to go back then, just forward, into a future that might hold more unhappiness than the past.So, he wouldn't move.Just being in that dark, peaceful room, standing over the woman that he had left months ago seemed to be enough for him at the moment.

And what happens when she wakes up?Will she remember this moment as it happened or as a dream that only reminds her of the pain that I caused.Will she still love Quatre?He knew the answer to the last question, of course.He couldn't take Quatre's place; he had been passed up for that job.Not a job, more like…What would it be?Peace?Love?Something that he had never fully known and could never name.Yuy, you're nothing but a traitorous soldier who's come back from suicide missions one too many times.Now that he was back once again, could he leave?Could he walk away from her again?

Relena's hand brushed against his, and he tore himself away from his thoughts and looked down at her in alarm, afraid that he had awakened her.Her eyes were still closed, though her lashes fluttered fitfully against her cheek.He drew his hand away from her, taking a step back.He stood there for a moment, watching closely as she stilled once more.No, I can't leave her again.I don't…want…to leave her again.His eyes hardened, and he scanned the room before turning to leave.But, I'm nothing more than a soldier.

"Heero," a voice called to him softly, grating harshly in his mind.He turned to see Trowa take two silent, panther-like steps across the room.

Fine tremors of anger ran down Trowa's arms as he opened Relena's door only to see Heero leaning over her as she slept.He strode carefully into the room, not wanting to have her awaken and be upset when she saw the two of them.Schooling his face into an impassive mask, he watched Heero come up to him, noting that the other's eyes shown with anger and his steps were violent.He looked as if he had barely managed to leash his fury.What's causing him to act this way? Trowa thought, bewildered.The signs weren't easy to see.Heero hadn't lost much of his edge from the war, but the anger was there, rippling under a thin surface of control.It intrigued Trowa that Quatre and Relena's union, brought about in peace, had started waves that none of them could have predicted.

But, what was he doing here tonight?How is he going to affect everything?It would be Heero who would cause changes, Trowa decided.He was too strong-willed, and if he wanted…

"Heero," Trowa whispered, a faint rumble of anger powering his words, as Heero started to brush past him.Heero continued out into the hall, not even throwing a glance over his shoulder in acknowledgement.Trowa eased the door shut and turned to see Heero leaning against the wall, staring at him, defiance on his face and in his posture.

"Why did you come here, Heero?"

I came as a guard, nothing more, Heero thought, addressing himself more than pondering what to say to Trowa.Trowa looked at him impassively, his arms crossed, waiting in silence for an answer.Or for my control to break.How close have I come to that?

"I came because Duo asked me to come," Heero said with steel in his voice, daring Trowa to challenge him and hoping that the other young man would not.Trowa bowed his head.

"Are you trying to seek her forgiveness?"Heero thought for a moment that he had imagined the question, but the reaction that it caused in him wasn't imagined.He fought to stand still and stay calm as he realized that Trowa had just named the source of his anger.Guilt.He could have stopped Relena's unhappiness long ago, but he left.He could have diffused this situation before Relena had to drag herself away from the happiness that she had just found, but he had been hiding.Then, he had come to her in the middle of the night, taking comfort from her, but it was only temporary because he hadn't made his confession to the light, to her face.

Heero realized that he had turned his eyes away from Trowa's and focused them on the floor only when Trowa had come up to him and spoke once more in a soft whisper.This time, though, the whisper wasn't the one of a hesitant question but one of warning."Don't ruin the marriage, Heero.Let them heal.This isn't the time for war."

Trowa stepped back and leaned once more next to Relena's door."I'll watch her for the rest of the night.Then, tomorrow, I'll find the people who are threatening her."

A flock of pigeons scuttled down the slanted stone roof and ducked around the gargoyles at the end before taking off in an ungainly flight and winging away toward the poorer districts of Moscow.Relena, clad in a heavy but elegant dress with a hat and gloves to ward off the cold, walked arm and arm with a Russian dignitary in the frigid shade under a covered colonnade.She had allowed herself a few moments to let her thoughts wander; the men and women with whom she walked now had focused their conversation on a festival that was to take place in the coming weeks.

"The decorations are already being assembled in the square in front of the embassy building where our meeting have been held.Perhaps you would like to go see them tomorrow, Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft?"Relena nodded absently in the general direction of the man who addressed her.She had been captivated for the past few minutes by a tall shadow that seemed to be following her little party.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," she said, smoothly detaching her escort's arm from hers."The governor and some of his council members were going to review some of the new documents from the city census with me this afternoon, and I'm afraid that I must leave you now."

The aristocrats graciously nodded to her, giving her their leave, with the exception of her escort who looked rather put out as he shuffled along in the wake of the group.As they once more resumed their conversation, Relena headed resolutely to the shadow, which had stopped behind one of the stone pillars of the colonnade.She rounded the pillar to see Heero, with his back toward her, staring out across the city.

"Heero," she said, gently touching him on the shoulder.He stiffened immediately and turned to face her.She sighed when she saw the wariness in his gaze.

"I hurt you," she said."I'm sorry."He stared at her for a moment, and she wondered if he could see her apology in her eyes, and she wondered that, if she looked for it herself, would she be able to see it?He had hurt her, taken a huge chunk from her base of support, but now that she had stability under her feet once again, the hurt had dulled until she was able to handle it and analyze it.What she had found had allowed her to understand why Heero had left her.She saw why it had been necessary for him to leave, and though she didn't think it was right, she understood him now.Through his absence, she had come to understand him better than when she had chased him throughout the early parts of the war.He needs to be understood.We all do.

When he didn't answer her, Relena reached out and took his hand in her gloved one.She gasped as Heero's grip tightened around her fingers, and he pulled her toward him, letting her stop only a moment before she would have fallen against his chest.

"No," he said, his voice rumbling deep in his throat."I'm sorry, for what I did to you."

You came back to me, Heero.And now I don't understand you at all.

"I owe you protection," he said softly, his gaze cast down at their intertwined fingers.Relena's eyes followed his, and she took her hand gently out of his, bringing up her other hand and pulling the glove off.She grabbed his hand just as it was falling.A tingle ran through her fingers when she felt how cold his hand was.She wrapped her own hand, still warm from being protected by the glove, around his and brought it slowly to rest upon her heart.

"You don't owe me anything, Heero," she said, her eyes on his own, which were hidden behind his lashes as he gazed down at their hands.She could feel his hand warming, but she could also feel tension running through it in fine tremors."My heart's faltered a few times, but I've always been able to count on my friends.Even you…even when you would count yourself as a traitor.You've helped me be happy, Heero."His hand slipped from hers, so fast that she wasn't sure if she had let it go or if he had yanked it away.He whirled around to face the city.Relena backed up a step, bowing her head.

"Now that you've come back, Heero, let me help you."

Let me get to know you, because I don't think that anyone else does.Let me see the real you, so that you and everyone else knows just how much good you can do, how much good you've already done.I want you to know how much you've helped me, and I want a chance to return that favor.


	6. Broken Roses

The governor of the city of Moscow paced up and down one side of the long table, his shadow following him on the highly polished wood.Relena's fingers tapped out a rhythm that corresponded with his steps.She didn't watch him; she was about fed up with the pompous man and everything that he believed.Give them a festival, he said.Give them something to take their minds off their troubles.Their mistrust of their government can't be pushed behind a clown's mask, she thought, glaring at the rich, dark wood.Every solution that they had considered had only been temporary, and Relena had a suspicion that the governor wouldn't commit to anything more than that.

"Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft," the governor said, a faint hint of anger creeping into his voice."We have been through every possible solution many times, and you're still not cooperating with us.If the situation doesn't improve, then I fear that we shall be forced to break away from the Earth Sphere United Nation."

Relena pushed her chair back violently and turned her glare directly onto the governor. "I'm not cooperating?I came as a representative of the Earth Sphere United Nation to help your people, Governor, not to discuss festivals and other distractions that your government plans to sponsor.If you feel that you can handle the problem, then I'll leave at once.I haven't found this trip to be one of the most pleasant that I've had, and if our relationship will suffer from it, then I'd rather leave now.

"So have your festival," she said. Her voice had quieted.She hadn't completely let go of the foolish hope that she could get the man to listen to reason."The people will forget their problems for about a week.They'll go home and talk about the splendor of it all and maybe be proud that their governor spent so much effort to give them something so wonderful.Are you planning on making a personal appearance to complete the beautiful picture?

"But, candy and prizes don't replace bread and blankets.Maybe they'll dream about the wonderful time they had at the festival when they're too weak with hunger to get up from their beds.When the streets of your city are rumbling with discontent again, you can always host another festival, right?" She shrugged, smiling bitterly."Maybe you can even arrange to kill all those happy festival-goers so that they die loving you and the false happiness that ended their misery but did nothing to improve their lives."

The governor ran a hand through his steel gray hair violently; his face burned vivid scarlet."All right, Mrs. Peacecraft," he said tersely."I will take your suggestion.At the festival, soldiers of the guard will be stationed on the upper colonnade.Your idea of weeding out the population should serve well to alleviate our problems.And you shall have the place of honor by my side.You will watch the whole thing and report back to your organization, letting them know of every factor that led me to my decision."

The maid had walked into the room as the governor began his tirade.He neither stopped nor made a motion for her to leave but acted as though he didn't see her at all.However, Relena was captivated by her the instant she opened the door.She wasn't a lovely woman.Her neck and shoulders were broad, and the long dress that she wore did nothing to flatter her stocky figure.Yet, her face was strong and weathered, with clear, bright eyes and a thick mane of auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail that caught the sunlight.Her hands delicately grasped the tray that she carried, but Relena felt that she could easily smash the fine china onto the floor in a fit of rage.She looked strong and alive, and Relena was in awe of her before she had taken one step into the room.

Then the governor's words stabbed at her, and she turned back toward him in shock.Before she could open her mouth to utter a hysterical reply, though, the maid had crossed the room and set the tray down on the table with enough force to make the dishes clatter and the tea spill over the sides of the cups.Relena shook her head, bewildered.The woman had said something, but it had been said in such a low tone that she had completely missed it.

"Excuse me?" she asked uncertainly.

"Can't you hear, girl?" the woman asked, whirling toward Relena the muscles like corded metal standing out on her arms.Her eyes, brilliant green, looked like the emerald scales of a poisonous snake.Or a dragon, Relena thought, trying not to back away."I said, don't kill us like animals in a damn pen. We're not ignorant of these meetings you've been having, locked away in here.Or do you only see us as stupid beasts, you, the woman who saved the world when you were only a girl?"She braced her hands on her hips and stared down at Relena."You know the politics of the streets?It's kill to live out there." She swept one arm to the side, taking in the whole room."It's different in here.You kill for a game—for a rotten game where you are the only winners and the losers lose everything.

The governor strode angrily around the table and clamped a hand on the woman's shoulder, trying to draw her away.She shook him off and lunged at Relena, grabbing her forearm with her hand.Relena tried to get away and found that she couldn't move.She leaned away and stared fearfully at the woman.

"My name is Oleena Alexandrovna," she said in a husky, rough voice."My father and brothers died in the war of 195 in the last battle.They fought even after being released from the army.My jobs pay for my family's welfare, but no more than that.Yesterday morning, I found a man starved to death on my doorstep.He held a certificate that was given to veterans of the war in his stiff hand, one that would have guaranteed him a bed and food, if he had had the strength to walk to the center.I could see the marks where he had crawled his last few feet in the mud leading to my door.

"I ask you now: Do you see us as animals?Did you save the world for us? Or did you save it for the likes of him?" She glared over her shoulder at the governor."We live in dwellings that a pig would refuse.We cause no stir of grief among you when we die.But, we look at you with intelligence." She took Relena's hands in both of hers.Her hands were rough, and she had a scar running across one thumb; it looked as though the cut that had made it had ripped off her nail also."While we live like animals, you treat us like animals.But if you could bear to have us in your presence, then you'd see that we are like you—only better.Our uncivilized lives have made us more noble than the governor in his palace."She straightened, dropping Relena's hands, and walked out the door with her head held high, not stopping to shut it on her way out of the room.

Relena grasped the back of one chair to steady herself.The governor was angrily paging another servant to come clean up the mess that Oleena had made over the intercom system that ran throughout the mansion.When she felt that she had regained enough composure so that she wouldn't fall down, Relena walked out without a word to him.

All my help hasn't done a thing, Relena thought, weariness pervading her whole being until she couldn't lift her feet.She kicked up little puffs of dust as she shuffled across the courtyard.It would have been a blessing for them if we had turned a blind eye as they planned a rebellion…but we interfered instead.I interfered.Now they've been given a death sentence, and I've as good as signed it.Because I wanted so desperately to help them, I didn't think of them as anything more than victims.And it's happened before, she realized with a shock that ran through her and made her tremble.I was exhausted before because I had concentrated so much on other people, who knew perfectly well what they were doing and probably didn't need most of the help that I pushed upon them.Heero…now that he's back, what I promised him…I could end up hurting all the people that I care about if I dedicate myself to helping him.I could smother what's been keeping him alive for so long.

But I love both of them, Heero and Quatre.I…I don't want to hurt either of them.Quatre would understand, I think, if I wanted to help Heero.But, I don't know what he needs, what anyone needs.I don't know anything.

She felt as though she had been wandering aimlessly for hours when she finally came to the stone fountain.In the center was a statue of a woman in a long flowing dress who was pulling a young boy to his feet with one hand.Her other hand was cupped in front of his mouth, water flowed from it to fall onto the sloping base of the statue and trickle into a pool of clear water and onto the open petals of the water lilies that floated on the water's surface.She fell to her knees on the bricks of the courtyard before the fountain, heedless of her expensive dress.Resting her cheek on the rough stone, she squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep tears from spilling out. One of her arms was draped over the stone, and water lilies bumped gently against her fingers as they trailed in the water.

When she opened her eyes, a pair of boots was standing in front of her.She looked up and saw Heero looking down at her.His hand was stretched out as if he had been about to place it on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and quiet.

Relena sat up slowly and brushed away the shards of stone that had embedded themselves in her cheek, wincing a little; one had cut her."That should teach me not to cry on a stone," she said, somehow managing a shaky smile.Heero sat on the ground next to her, resting his back against the fountain.

"What happened?"When she didn't reply, Heero took her chin gently in his hand and turned her head to face him."What happened?" he asked again, holding her gaze with his own.

A shaky breath escaped her lips before she could reply."My efforts here have been completely useless.I don't understand the situation enough to help anyone."

Heero let go of her chin and glared at her."Don't be so formal with me, Relena.What's wrong? Tell me."

Relena found that she couldn't handle even thinking about the scene in the governor's office without tearing up again."A noble woman in rags taught me something today," she said, staring at the bricks that showed in the space between them."All these people that I've been trying to help—well, I've killed them.And it was because I didn't think that they could help themselves, and now I've messed everything up so much that they don't have a hope of helping themselves."She looked up at him finally, but she couldn't read his expression."And it's all my fault," she finished weakly.

The corner of Heero's mouth turned up in a fond smile.He wrapped one arm around Relena's shoulders and drew her closer so her head rested against his chest before she could protest."Relena…" he murmured.She held herself perfectly still, listening and feeling his heart beating."You tried so hard.Yes, it failed, but nothing's finished yet.You've taken on so much by yourself.This isn't a job for only one person.Maybe you should let others help you without feeling that you have to help them in return."

Heero knew, as soon as he felt Relena relax and let him hold her, that he wasn't going to keep his unspoken promise to only be a guard to Relena.Or perhaps he was, only she needed her guard to be something more.Don't get carried away, he admonished himself.This is dangerous.Despite the danger, he held onto her more tightly."Let us help you Relena…"He let one hand travel to her cheek and wiped away the small trickle of blood that was staining it.

Oleena undid the latch of her ramshackle apartment on the second floor of an equally disheveled building and walked in to find her daughter half in the oven.Ilyanna backed up slowly and straightened up, holding a loaf of bread carefully in her hands, juggling it a little because it was so hot.She beamed at her mother and wrapped the loaf in a clean white towel before setting it with five other bundles in a stack on the table.

"I've finished the baking for the fighters, Momma, and I put two loaves for us up on the shelf."

Oleena smiled wearily at her daughter before going into the other room.She threw her bag on the bed that they shared and sat on a creaky stool in front of a white dresser.Unfinished wood showed through bare patches in the paint, and it sagged in the middle.She'd found it in a narrow side street in the 'rich quarter' one day and pulled it home in a cart that she borrowed from the man who sold wilted vegetables down the street.She kicked off her shoes and reached for her brush, the only thing that sat on top of the dresser.It had long, soft bristles with some missing in only a couple places, an elegant silver handle, and a large rose on the back.A piece of the back had chipped off, taking away one petal of the rose and revealing the pale plastic underneath.Oleena let down her auburn hair, and it fell heavily past her waist to pool on the back of the stool.She drew some of it over her shoulder and began to brush it, trying to relax.

She heard Ilyanna when she came through the room, though she could tell that the girl was trying to stay quiet." 'Anna, please tell me when Ilya gets here."

"Yes, Momma."Only a few moments later, Ilyanna dragged a large white sack through the room and perched it on the windowsill for a moment before letting it drop.

"Thank you fair damsel," came a merry voice from outside."Without your aid we would surely starve!"

Oleena rushed to the window and thrust her head out to see a young man grinning at her underneath his unruly straw-colored hair.Beside her, Ilyanna waved at him, and he wrinkled his nose at her to make her giggle.Oleena shooed the girl away before turning back to the young man outside.

"You've all disappeared?" she said in a low voice, only loud enough so that it reached his ears.

He nodded."Everyone's spread out, so even if someone's caught, we'll still have a chance."

"We have to act soon—tomorrow.I lost my temper in the governor's office today.He knows too much, or even if he doesn't, he suspects now.And Mrs. Dorlian Peacecraft was there.I think I must've given her a shock she's not likely to appreciate or forget.I shouldn't have lost control like that."

Ilya's eyes glittered, hard and dangerous as he nodded an affirmation."Tomorrow.I'll let everyone know. Don't be too hard on yourself, Commander."He winked cheekily at her and jogged away with the precious bundle.

Trowa nervously punched the buttons that would bring Quatre's face up on the vidscreen and ran a hand through his bang.Part of him wanted so badly to make sure that Quatre was still alive, and part of him was arguing that it would be better for him if he didn't see Quatre at all.Still, he was relieved when he saw Quatre smiling at him.

"Hello, Trowa." His expression sobered when he saw the dark circles under Trowa's eyes, though."Nothing's happened there, has it?We haven't heard anything yet.You and Relena are all right?"

Trowa nodded."And you?"

Quatre put a hand to his wound and winced."Healing, I guess, even though it doesn't feel anything like that."When he saw that Trowa's expression didn't lighten, he grew more serious."Don't worry about me," he said shortly."Trowa, why did you call?What's going on?"

Trowa sighed softly, his chest barely rising at all."I've found the place where the rebels are hiding."

"What are you going to do about it?" Quatre asked, his concern showing itself as he leaned closer.

"I'm going to go there tomorrow.And I'm going to kill all of them."

"Trowa, are you sure this is the right thing to do?"

"No, Quatre, it isn't the right thing to do," Trowa said, looking away.Quatre was making him feel guilty, which wouldn't help make matters any better."Not in the sense that you mean, anyway…but it will end this.I want this to end."

I want you and Relena to be together again, so I don't have these feelings that I can't do anything about plaguing me.I don't want to feel anything for you…or for anyone…anymore.Maybe after this is over, I won't have to worry about any of that.If I'm lucky, then maybe I can also escape the guilt for what I'm going to do.

"So do I," Quatre said, nodding."But we should try to get everyone out of this in the best possible condition that we can."He smiled sadly at Trowa."And you're about to tell me that in order to do that, you have to kill the rebels."

Trowa nodded wordlessly.The silence grew as his eyes darted around to rest on the table, the floor, anywhere but on Quatre's face.Finally, he became too uncomfortable."I…don't want to do it, Quatre."

"I know, Trowa…"


	7. Dust Cloud

Part 7: Dust Cloud

Author's Note: I know, I kind of abandoned this story for a while because of a lot of things, but I'm going to finish it asap. In fact, all I have left to write is the last chapter, which I plan on doing from today until Tuesday. (Don't ask me what the date will be; I don't keep track of stuff like that. Anyway, it's this Tuesday.) Tomorrow (Monday), I'm going to post the second to last part, which is already written, so that's definitely going to happen. Why am I not posting it today with this part? Because if I did that, then everyone would wait to review until after they had read that part, too. *wink*

            Ilya ducked as he slipped quickly out of the alleyway and ran across the street, tucking himself into an alcove in the wall that surrounded the governor's mansion.  He swiped at a thin stream of sweat that trickled between his eyes and across his cheek then wiped his moist hand on his shirt, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of how bad he was going to smell after all this was over.  His boots and pants stank of the refuse that he had had to wade through in his journey through the maze of alleys in Moscow.  The oppressive air in the narrow passages of the city underworld had made him sweat even when he had been standing still.

            I'll go to Oleena's when this is done and give her a hug.  He grimaced as he realized that it was a totally irrational thought.  People who were about to commit murder shouldn't joke.  I'm once again proving my inexperience.  Maybe I'll be lucky and get caught right inside the fence so I don't foul things up even more.  He pulled his gun from his back pocket and twisted a silencer on the end of the barrel.  He had fired a gun before, in drills with the makeshift army that Oleena and the other members of the lowest classes of Moscow—those who weren't caught up in the misery of their own lives, anyway—had managed to scrape together.  However, he had never shot a man, and he didn't know anyone who had.  There were veterans of the war of 195 in his neighborhood, even some in the fighting force, but they always described the battles by saying how many mobile suits had been destroyed, not how many men had been killed.  Only the Gundam pilots were ever referred to as people in the fighting talk, and even then it was rare.

            It's all going to change after this.  Maybe for the worse, maybe for the better, but something's going to start with his blood.  How will it change me?  Will killing come more easily to me after…?

            The sharp tap of precise footsteps echoed around the narrow crack he was crammed into.  The light that shined into Ilya's hiding place was stifled as a guard walked around the edge on top of the wall.

            The first guard--I have fifteen minutes.

            His arms scraped along the rough bricks as he maneuvered them in front of him so that he could shimmy up the alcove.  He braced his fingertips in a crack a couple feet above his head and grunted slightly as he hauled his body off the ground and jammed his feet into two other cracks.  The metal of the gun squealed faintly as it scraped the back of the alcove, and Ilya winced, glancing up at the square of sunlight he could see, blinking as sweat poured into his eyes.  It felt like he was baking.  He moved his arms up again, and then pushed the rest of his body up with his legs.  The bricks of the wall were crumbling beneath his fingertips, and he had to constantly move them to new places to keep from slipping.  When he was near the top, he quickly twisted his body around so that his back was against one side of the alcove.  Then he raised his head cautiously to look for any danger.

            The guard was walking down the side of the wall perpendicular to the side Ilya had just climbed.  His back was toward Ilya, his long rifle slung over his shoulder.  Ilya boosted himself onto the top of the wall, swept his hand back to check for the gun, and quickly slid over the other edge of the wall.  Pain stabbed at his leg muscles as he landed sloppily in the governor's garden, rocking back on his heels before finally recovering his balance.  He pressed himself into the shade at the bottom of the wall, looking for a place to hide until he could get to the governor's room.  A gnarled, old oak tree stood under the open window that Ilya had determined belonged to the governor's room.  After checking once more to make sure that the guard couldn't see him, Ilya sprinted across the garden and dove behind the base of the tree, the tree concealing him from the open garden that he had just crossed.  He slumped against the trunk for a moment.  His hands were shaking, and he wrapped them around two clumps of dew-soaked grass, trying to steady them.  His heart was fluttering, and he was clammy with sweat that chilled on his skin.  His breath misted in the cold morning air.  He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and trying to take deep breaths.

            Maybe if I don't think about it—just let myself do it.  The gun dug into his back, and he heard the echo of that fateful shot in his mind.  Violent trembles ran through his limbs.  He leaned forward quickly as his stomach heaved, and he retched on the grass.  Coughing and gagging because of the stench on his lips and coming from the ground in front of him, Ilya sat back on his heels weakly, too worn to shake anymore.  He didn't want to kill this man.  Damnit.  It wasn't fair.  If this was a mistake…  Maybe the governor wasn't an awful person like Oleena had insinuated; Ilya certainly hadn't met him.  How was he supposed to know?  Maybe people's lives were the same everywhere in the world, not just here, and maybe Relena Peacecraft was the one to blame.

            Ilya stood, supporting his weight on his weak knees by bracing his arms against the tree.  He rested his forehead on the rough bark.  No.  Oleena knows what she's doing.  It might not be right, but she believes it's necessary.  She hasn't ever led us wrong before.  We might end up fighting Relena Peacecraft and the whole Earth Sphere United Nation at some point.  But right now, it's necessary…

            He pulled the gun from his back pocket.  It was cold and heavy in his hands; his muscles were still weak.  There was no time left, though.  He had to start now.

            He checked the wall top from behind the tree.  No guard.  The governor seemed to the outside eye to be a very foolish man.  He had no alarms or security systems on his property.  However, he wasn't entirely without protection.  Guards constantly patrolled the wall and rooftops, and many of his employees were trained in one form of fighting or another.  The reason Oleena had been hired in the first place was her physical strength.  Plus, the mayor himself was a very formidable man, and a forbidding target.

            The curtains of the window above Ilya's head billowed out as the governor leaned over the sill, a scowl on his heavy face and his shoulders hunched over.  Ilya darted to the wall of the mansion, pressing his back against it.  He took quick, shallow breaths, and the rapid beating of his heart played a tattoo in his ears.

            When the governor disappeared, Ilya moved swiftly to the tree.  Ignoring his still trembling limbs, he scrambled up the trunk and pulled himself onto a thick leafy bough, from which he could see into the governor's room.  The large man was pacing and railing silently at an absent annoyance.  He face tinted red, he whipped around the room in a rage.

            Ilya used both hands and feet to tread softly down the branch.  He couldn't keep the leaves from shaking, though, and every time the governor's head turned toward the window, Ilya's heart stopped.           

            All too quickly, the branch thinned enough that it could no longer hold his weight.  Ilya gauged the distance between himself and the windowsill, taking his gun out and clamping his hand around the trigger.  He gathered his muscles and threw himself at the window, hitting the sill with enough force to bruise his ribs.  He was half-in and half-out when the governor saw him.

            The governor charged toward him with an animalistic snarl that almost shocked Ilya into letting go.  He latched on to Ilya's upper arms with hands that could probably pound through a wall.

            "Oh God, I'm sorry!" Ilya shouted, surprised and terrified by the governor's speedy attack.  He didn't want to do this.  He didn't want to kill anyone…  Bile rose in his throat, and his vision danced with spots of grey.

            Surprise flashed across the governor's face but cleared when he saw the gun in his assailant's hand.  He raised a fist and struck Ilya across his face hard enough to tear his grip from the sill.  Ilya's mind numbed with fear as he fell, and unconsciously, his finger squeezed the trigger.

            Pain stabbed through his whole body as he hit the ground.  His breath exploded from his lungs, and he writhed on the grass, gasping for air.  After several eternities had passed where he couldn't think and could only see tendrils of black, he was able to breath again and lay in a state of utter weakness.  Then, he saw the blood coursing down the brick wall of the mansion.  Above his head, the governor hung limply out of the window, framed in spattered red.

            Relena straightened her jacket with more force than she intended and heard a couple threads snap.  She was standing with a maid outside the door to the governor's personal rooms, waiting with impatiently jangling nerves for the man to answer his servant's timid rapping.

            "You're sure that he's in here?" Relena asked in a carefully schooled voice that kept her nerves and her impatience hidden.

            "Yes, ma'am," the maid said with a curtsy.  "He said that he would be in his rooms all morning, ma'am, and that he should only be bothered if it was something important."

            "Would he mind too terribly if I just walked in?  Instead of waiting for an answer, Relena slipped around the maid to the door.

            The maid's hands fluttered to her face in shock.  "No, ma'am!  Please don't!  He won't like it!"

            Relena knocked sharply on the door once and waited a moment before turning the knob.  The maid walked swiftly away, murmuring to herself.  Relena opened the door to an opulent room with cream-colored carpeting and intricately but tastefully carved furniture that looked like it was made from cherry wood, its rich brown-red complementing the lighter decorations in the room.  A decanter of wine stood next to a half-empty glass in the center of the room, and the light from the fire burning low in the hearth made the burgundy wine glow and refracted on the crystal goblet, scattering rainbows whimsically over the carpeting.

            With all the fuss that the maid had been making, Relena was surprised when she didn't even see the governor in the room.  She walked hesitantly further into the room, not sure how the governor would react if he saw her here.  There was a closed door in the far right-hand corner, and Relena headed resolutely toward it, stepping carefully around the small table with the wine.

            She saw the first spot of blood only because she had glanced down at the rainbows glittering on the floor.  It was a dull, dark red, lighter around the edges where it had seeped into the carpet; Relena found that she couldn't keep her eyes from casting about the floor, especially when she saw that more drops had fallen around the first.  They finally fell on the sole of a polished black shoe.

            I don't want to see this… Relena thought, even as she realized that she was in a room with a freshly dead person.  She was still now, her hands and arms prickling with goosebumps.  She heard the dripping through a silence that seemed to roar in her ears and forced herself to look.  

            A stocky man was hanging halfway out of the window, draped there as if he were no more than a carpet that needed airing out.  Relena moved cautiously toward him, avoiding the drops of blood like they were snakes and looking at the body like it was a wild animal poised to strike at her.  She touched his shoulder cautiously.  The muscles were already stiffening.  It didn't feel like a real body but like an overstuffed doll, instead, and Relena couldn't help the little whimper of disgust that escaped her throat.  She clamped both hands on his shoulders and flipped him over, starting back as his pants' leg brushed against her.

            "Oh…" she murmured.  She said it with little emotion.  It was more like uttering an expected response than gasping out a shocked exclamation.  It was the governor.  His face was pale with dark hollows under his eyes.  His thick neck was a mess of bloody gore where the bullet had ripped through muscles and arteries.  She should have realized that it was him before, maybe part of her had known that it could only be him.

            I wish it hadn't happened like this.  They've started to help themselves, but they shouldn't have killed him.  That thought came with the strange calmness that comes over people when something pounds their senses past shock or grief.  Then came the horrifying thought that ripped her out of that state of calm.  What do I do now?

            She went to the window, intending to look out over the city, as if it could bless her with some answers.  As soon as the wind brushed light fingers across her face and she felt that she'd be able to get past this feeling of lost helplessness, a gasp caught her attention, and she looked down to see a young man lying on the grass, a silver gun a few feet away from him.

            "You did this," she said softly.

            The young man pulled himself up to lean on his arms and began scooting backward, finally stopping with his back resting against the tree.  He moved restlessly, pulling his legs up in a defensive gesture.

            "Yes," he finally said, his voice as low as hers with no trace of pride or viciousness.  He was moving more steadily now, keeping his gaze turned downward, away from her and the blood on the wall.  Pulling himself onto his knees, he turned and reached for his gun.  Relena looked up past the tree.

            "Don't," she said suddenly, startling him.  He whipped around, pointing the quivering gun at her.

            "What?" he asked, his voice strained.

            "Wait until the guard goes past."

            "You're…you're helping me?" he asked, lowering the gun.  "But I just murdered a man."

            Relena nodded.  It was against her ideals, and she thought that he must know that.  "Yes, but you had reason to.  That was my fault.  I could've stopped this situation long ago, but I was following the wrong path."  She looked up again.  "The guard's gone."

            "You're letting me go?"  He still couldn't believe it.  His shock showed plainly on his face.

            "Hurry," she said, willing him to be sensible and leave.  "Not many other people will understand that this," she gestured at the blood that she had refused to look at, "is actually for good."

            He nodded once to her in affirmation.  "Thank you," he said solemnly, "but I myself don't think that my actions were good."

            "But it's what you believe in isn't it?"

            "I don't believe in killing, but I'm taking orders from a woman whose decisions can save us all."

            Then he was gone, leaving Relena to ponder what this other woman was doing that she wasn't.

            Trowa trudged slowly down an alleyway that was narrow enough so that only one person could walk comfortably through it, keeping his head down and his back hunched slightly, the way that so many walked here.  A gun lay cool and still in his pocket.  His fingers brushed lightly against it as he left the cover of the alley.  Before him was a pewter gray wall that stretched twenty feet into the air, ragged wisps of insulation hanging despondently from underneath a loosely-shingled roof.

            He let himself into the building through a small side door.  After it swung soundlessly shut behind him, the broken lock crashed against the metal.

            His footsteps left clear imprints on the floor.  Dust hung in the air, stirring occasionally in a stale breeze, blurring Trowa's view with filthy glitter.  He froze, muscles tense as a hoarse cough, muffled by the dust curtain, reached his ears.  There was  a stirring in the corner.

            Heero crept across the top of a partially fallen brick wall that had been built, he assumed, to keep the pathetic remnants of the dying city's people out, trapping them in the twisting alleyways, like rats in a maze that had to watch carefully for food or electric wires.

            The warehouse building before him looked as though it had been decaying for years. Heero raked his eyes over it, looking for the best entrance. He was surprised that he could easily see the company's name emblazoned across the wall in front of him in crisp white letters.

            NOEL TOY CRAFTERS

            A toy company…?

            He dropped off the wall, one hand bracing him as he landed. As he strode resolutely to the building where he knew that Trowa was searching for the rebels, a totally irrelevant thought crossed his mind that he quickly pushed away.

            What happened to all the kids?

            He entered the dust-laden warehouse though a window near the roof, pulling himself through with clawed, straining fingers until he was able to kneel on the top of a crate that crowned an untidy mountain. Below him, Trowa stood center stage, and to the far right was a dark bundle of rags in the shadows.

            Heero wobbled down the stack of crates. Before he was even a third of the way down, Trowa's head whipped around. He watched Heero with narrowed eyes and a hand on his gun.

            "Did you find anything?" Heero asked as his feet touched lightly on the ground.

            Trowa jerked his head toward the bundle in the shadows. "Him."

            Heero walked over, feeling as though he was wading through a shiny sort of fog, until he reached the place where the man lay, a heavy overcoat twisted and bunched near his shoulders. His socks were different colors, one up, one slouching around his ankle.

            "He's dead," Trowa said from faraway.

            Heero took his eyes away from the dead man and looked behind where he lay. Tucked into a corner was a ragged recliner, stuffing pouring from the armrests. A pattern of flowers in full bloom was faintly visible beneath a heavy layer of dust. A red stain shone near the head of the chair, a badge honoring its worn misery. Heero gazed at the man again, imagining how his body must have bounded from the chair, noticing that his limbs were sprawled untidily in the dust. He felt cold suddenly; his stomach clenched.

            "Why did you kill him, Trowa?"

            He turned when he didn't hear a reply, but Trowa had vanished. He cast a glance to his right and saw a vague form advancing toward him.

            "Calm down, Heero." Towa's outline gradually became sharper. He appeared out of the dust cloud as if he were pushing aside a veil, and he was pointing his gun at Heero's head.

            Trowa felt a vague sense of panic as he threatened his comrade. He had thought that Heero would have enough control… Obviously, control had nothing to do with the current situation.

            It could easily go either way now, Trowa thought. He felt as though he was hanging on the edge of an immense drop. His feet hit the ground heavily.

            "Trowa—what are you doing?" Heero asked, hesitantly reaching for his own gun. He looked as though he refused to recognize the need for it, and Trowa had the mouth of his gun pressed to Heero's temple before his comrade could change his mind.

            "You shouldn't have come back, Heero," Trowa said, putting steel into his voice as best he could. "I told you that they needed to heal—you're only in the way. The best thing that you can do now is leave again, and if that means permanently then—"

            "Trowa, I promised Relena that I'd help her."

            "What about Quatre?"

            "…Why would he have an objection? She can't do this alone. He knows that."

            "Be honest. Would it stop there? Would you be able to think of her as a friend only? I saw you before you left the first time. You were falling in love with her. I can't let you do that to him."

            "Will you help her, then?"

            "I've been helping. I came here to protect her."

            "You didn't come here for her, though. You know she wouldn't approve of what you're doing. Only a soldier would even understand it."

            Trowa stared hard at Heero, wondering what he was suggesting, what he was thinking.

            "I told Quatre what I was going to do," Trowa said carefully, "but he didn't have anything to do with my decision."

            Heero smirked slightly and tried to hide it. Both of them, he saw now, were fools. Trowa couldn't help his actions any more than he could help his own, but it bothered him that neither of them could control what was happening. Heero wasn't even sure he could describe it in words; he only knew that something had gone wrong at some point.

"What do we do now?"

            Heero's voice came out in a soft rumble, and Trowa's hand jerked a little in surprise.

            "Disappear. It would be the best thing."

            Heero's cheek twitched as if he were about to smile. He shook his head.

            "I don't like that answer."

            Trowa pushed the safety down with his thumb and restlessly moved his finger on the trigger.

            Heero felt the mouth of the gun press harder against his head, but Trowa did nothing after that. Adrenaline flooded Heero's veins, his muscles bunched, and he felt as though he was hovering breathlessly a thousand feet above ground.

            "If you're going to shoot me then do it!" he growled.

            The only answer he received was the muffled pat of Trowa's feet on the ground as he shifted.

            He couldn't be still any longer. If he couldn't move the way that he wanted to, then he'd rather be in a position where he wouldn't know or care what happened to him.

            "Do it!" he shouted, vaguely aware that his hand was reaching for the trigger.

            "No!"

            Eventually Relena backed away from the window. She turned a heavy gaze over to the wooden table that held the wine decanter and found herself beside it without knowing how her feet had gotten her there. She absently ran her fingers over it, and it shone back at her, like the depths of light in the eye of a benign animal. It comforted her, that and the lack of emotion she felt inside. That noticeable absence left a hole that she could crawl into to hide.

            She was only interrupted from her dazed meditation when punishing footsteps rattled the table. A drop of wine fell from the edge of the goblet and slithered down the side. Relena looked over to see a huge hand wrapped claw-like around her upper arm. A voice rumbled in halting English from somewhere above her.

            "Ma'am, I have to ask you to come with us."

            Us? Relena thought foggily. There was only one hand, one voice. She didn't look around for the other. It didn't seem important. The hand led, and she followed.

            Heero stared at Trowa, feeling his heartbeat slowing and knowing that Trowa's was doing the same as he knelt down to run his fingers across the only spot of the concrete floor that was free of dust, the scar that the bullet had made.

            "Well," Trowa said slowly, his voice and face calm. Heero wondered then if he had been right, or if Trowa's heart had stopped beating long ago. "Maybe you two are meant to fall in love."

            Something in Heero's chest tightened, painful and exquisite and thrilling at the same time. He stepped after Trowa as the other turned to leave, slipping his gun into his back pocket.

            "Trowa, what about—"

            "Leave it alone, Heero," Trowa interrupted, his voice cool and veiled.

            Trowa opened the door carefully, knowing that he didn't want to hear that clanging lock again but not really knowing why. He held the door for Heero, let him go out first, and stood for a moment feeling a silly flutter in his chest. He probed at it for awhile before giving up, exasperated. There was no sense in feeling that way; it was only a door, after all.


	8. Never Love

Part 8: Never Love

Author's notes: The final chapter will be up tomorrow or Wednesday at the very latest. ^_^; Sorry, deadline for the school newspaper, and play practice on top of that.

Words between * are thoughts. They got messed up again last time. -_-;

            Quatre removed himself from his economy seat on the 7:45 flight reluctantly. His side ached as he unfolded himself, fished for his carry-on, which he had stuffed under the seat. The woman next to him woke with a start, looking blankly at the novel that she had opened on her lap just after take-off. She smiled ruefully and shook her head when she saw that she was still on page one. Quarte watched as she brushed long, lithe fingers through her wispy hair, searching for her hair tie, which was lying crooked against her neck. She started to straighten it but left it as a flight attendant's voice came on stale over the intercom.

            "Please make your way to the door at the front of the plane. We hope that you have enjoyed flying with us. Thank you."

            Quatre sidestepped into the aisle, clutching onto the back of another seat as one of his legs began to tingle. He couldn't feel his foot on the floor.

            Looking up quickly as something dropped past his face, he saw that the woman who had been sitting next to him had pulled her duffel bag from the overhead compartment with a flourish. He started forward as she reached the end of the aisle. They both stopped; the man behind Quatre cleared his throat.

            "Go ahead," the woman said quickly just as Quatre was moving backward, muttering an apology. He caught himself, smiled at her.

            "Thanks."

            "No prob."

***

            He wandered into the baggage claim area, studiously ignoring all the people who had someone to greet them. He only had to wait a few moments to collect his suitcase, which was a welcome surprise.

            Suitcase straining to slip from his hand, he marched to the customs desk while fishing in his pocket for his passport. He found the tiny blue book, wrinkled and bent and held it tightly in his hand, his fingers ruffling through the worn pages.

            It was only when he reached the customs desk that he again encountered the woman from the plane. She smiled at him and did not object when he caught her up after going under the scrutiny of the lizard-faced man behind the counter.

            "I hate airports," she announced at once. "Especially ones in other countries."

            "What brings you here?" Quatre asked. She seemed startled a little by the question.

            "Oh, actually, I'm going to report on a story for the Associated Press.

            "Of America," she added. "My boss wants me to see exactly what's going on with the Relena Peacecraft situation."

            "I hope you'll have something good to report," Quatre said politely before excusing himself to board a shuttle bus, relieved that she hadn't outwardly recognized him.

***

            *Moscow coughs,* Quatre thought as the filthy white bus he was on rattled and bumped its way down a road overlooking the city. The sky above the city was gray; there were no defining edges to tell cloud from sky. The buildings sat forlornly, long used to the dirt that streaked down their sides and the sickly pale brown of their neighbors. The city huddled in on itself, coughing softly, constantly. Quatre wondered why it just didn't give one great heave of effort to clear everything away.

            When he had left home, he'd been very anxious to comfort Relena, but now that he had arrived he was feeling apprehensive. The Preventers had been intercepting all the news from Moscow, and he was sure that Noin and Sally were telling him an edited version of what was happening.

            He was still eager to help her, like he had been at their wedding. He felt it inside of him; it flowed through his veins whenever he thought of her. Yet, it made him sick to realize that he was wearing down, himself. He wasn't strong enough.

            Lately, wherever he went he believed that others could see the same thing. It showed in their gestures, their words. It showed in the silence that shook him, wearing away at him. It spoke:  little whispers that seemed to betray him and made him the most ardent believer of his own weakness.

            There were wild moments of fear and doubt when he couldn't stop himself from thinking that she would die and that he would fail. Those thoughts, like vipers circling ever closer around him, left him pale and drained. In her absence, he had even sunk so low as to begin questioning their love.

            *But it wasn't supposed to be love. Never love.*

            Even as the thought blew through his head, he knew it was wrong. It was supposed to have been love. It had been love, for awhile, but there was something pulling at both of them.

            Quatre stumbled down the bus' steps, still wrapped in thought. He barely noticed the cracked sidewalk under his feet or the people that walked by him, alone or in groups, all silent. He had just realized with a little shock that he should look up to get his bearings when someone took his bag.

            He whirled, dulled fury trying to work its way upon his features. Trowa stood tall and straight before him, Quatre's bag at his feet, his eyes studying Quatre solemnly under the shadow of his hair. Quatre took his friend's hand, smiling wearily up at him. He noticed with an aching relief that Trowa seemed brighter and sharper than the city around him. He was still there. For a moment, Quatre wondered why he was afraid that Trowa wouldn't be.

***

Trowa smiled in spite of himself, though he was glad that he had managed one when he risked a furtive glance at his friend and saw him visibly relax. He walked beside Quatre, carefully matching their steps so that he could keep his friend in sight, hoping that Quartre wouldn't notice that or Trowa's expression. He wasn't sure what showed on his face, but a terrible sense of something missing was dominating his thoughts.

            *I can't have expected him to hug me,* he thought, disgusted with himself, and knew at once that that had been exactly, if not what he had expected, then what he had wanted. He looked at Quatre and wanted to take his hand. He wanted a connection. He might have had that from anyone, but it had to be *him.*

            Together, they strode quickly up the hill that would take them to the capital. When they reached the top, Trowa put a hand on Quatre's shoulder to keep him from rushing off right away to find Relena.

            "Trowa where is she?" Quatre asked, turning to Trowa with eyes bright with anxiety.

            "They're holding her in the capital building, itself," Trowa murmured, his voice muffled by Quatre's puckered eyebrows and slight frown. He ran his eyes quickly over the disordered hair, pale skin, and sorrowful mouth. He couldn't look into Quatre's eyes. "But I have to tell you something before you go see her."

            "What's wrong?" Quatre asked immediately. Trowa felt and ugly, jealous sort of pride when he realized that all of Quatre's attention was focused on him.

            "Come with me," Trowa said in answer, leading Quatre to a stone bench that squatted under the brittle, leafless boughs of a tree that looked as though it had been roughly sketched onto the air with charcoal.

            "Heero's here," Trowa said abruptly, almost before they had sat down. Quatre shook out his coat sleeves until they covered his bare hands and turned toward Trowa.

            "Wh-Really?" Quatre said, a smile suddenly softening his face. "Trowa, that's great! Have they seen each other yet seen each other yet? I mean…I know he upset Relena, but really, once they talk…and he'll be able to help her, more than I was."

            Shadows slipped quietly over his face until he looked as though he was trapped, pressed underneath them. Trowa looked away. He watched a yellow and green splotched leaf skid wildly toward him; it caught on the toe of his boot for a moment before it was pulled away by the wind like a child on a leash.

            "They've seen each other," Trowa finally said into the silence that boxed them in, separating them from the others that were walking around the capital. "I…spoke with Heero. He's not been able to completely fulfill his guarding duties. I told him that he should leave, and Quatre, I threatened him. I know you don't like it," he said in a rush, to forestall any questions that would probably disintegrate his control and leave him babbling like an idiot. "And it didn't work, of course. I should have realized that (*but I wanted to protect you,* he thought). He's still here, but he's staying now because he loves her. Quatre—"

            The fragile pain in Quatre's face made the comforting words that Trowa had been about to say freeze on his lips.

            Quatre turned from him, shoved his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat.

            "I probably shouldn't go see her then."

            "Quatre, it's not your fault," Trowa said, feeling worse as soon as the words had escaped into the open air. They were so pitifully hollow.

            "No," Quatre stated firmly. "I wasn't able to help her like I said I would." His pale, drawn face hung low, and he stared at nothing with hard eyes. "Heero…Heero can help her better than I could ever be able to. I might have been able to get her back to work, but they're in love, Trowa. And that's so much more important."

            Trowa nodded. After that he found himself looking at everything else just to avoid looking at his friend. Finally he had to speak or risk losing everything that was keeping them there, together.

            "Quatre, I'm sorry." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Quatre jump slightly as if he was pulled from his own thoughts.

***

            Quatre had been thinking of how easy it would be, now that everything had been said, to let Relena be with Heero, when Trowa spoke. And he remembered. Not everything was finished yet. *What am I going to do afterward?*

            "Why? You shouldn't be, Trowa," he said, puzzled by this feeling that he had more to do.

            "I nearly ruined everything." Trowa stood, looking out over the city.

            "But…" Then he remembered. The kiss. The way Trowa looked like he was…deteriorating after the wedding. After the brush of memories had faded away, leaving him clear-headed and exquisitely alert, he knew that he had to help Trowa. As much as he could, even if he wasn't able to and fell short again. He had to make the effort.

            He stood and moved slowly to stand beside Trowa, noticing in a rush of perfect admiration that he was still standing tall.

            "Trowa," he said, looking earnestly into Trowa's eyes as he jumped and whirled to face him. "Trowa, let's take a walk."

***

Relena was sliding her fingers through some loose threads that hung from her coat when Heero came into the room to which they had confined her. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested against the wall. A wisp of hair brushed against her cheek, livened a little by the slight draft that issued from the heating vents on the floor.

            He went right to her and touched her arm when she didn't immediately notice him. She stretched slightly and opened her eyes, which seemed to reflect hope and suffering in thousands of crystal pieces. Heero silently reprimanded himself. Even if he finally realized what he wanted and even and had support of one of his friends, that was no reason to become a sappy romantic.

            Relena stood, looking into his face all the while.

            "Heero," she murmured, surprise stealing softly into her voice. "They let you in? How did you know?"

            "Since the first answer is obvious," Heero said smiling faintly, his heart constricting again as she smiled back, "I'll just go ahead with the second one. The governor's secretary told me. You're trial is set for tomorrow."

            "That soon."

            "You don't seem worried," Heero said, wanting to follow her as she wandered along the opposite wall, running a finger along the bottom of a picture frame, touching the leather-bound books that were scattered across the desk in the corner. She turned toward him, tucked the stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

            "I'm trying not to be. I didn't kill him," she said wearily. Heero immediately nodded and saw color wash back into her face. She straightened her posture and smiled at him. "Heero…thank you.

" I saw the man who did it," she continued. "I got there right after. But I don't want to condemn him."

            "You won't have to. They don't have enough evidence to convict you," Heero said, protectiveness rumbling through his chest and voice.

            "When you came in," she said, waving a hand toward the bench on which she had been sitting. "I was thinking about that. Actually, I was trying to get away for just a few minutes. …It just feels like so much is going to be happening tomorrow." She walked stiffly over to the bench and sank down onto it. "I keep wanting to take today and stretch it out like a rubber band." She sighed. "But it would be better if it were still yesterday."

            Heero knew exactly what he should do. He should go to her and hold her, kiss her forehead and let her rest her head on his shoulder. And to his great surprise, that's exactly what he did.

***

            Oleena bustled down the hall, Ilya's laundry clutched against her chest as if the thread-bare clothes were a baby's wrappings. She passed the narrow shower door and stomped to a halt when she heard water running. Huffing indignantly, she banged her fist against the thin wood.

            "I better not have to refill that cistern when you're done, boy," she growled threateningly.

            "Don't worry, 'Leena," called back a cheeky voice from within. "There's still a trickle up there."

            Oleena threw up her hands, laundry waving, as Ilya came out with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. She tried her best to glower at him but couldn't help but notice how his skin was pulled taunt over his cheekbones and the way his smile seemed different, older, more tired.

            She pushed the laundry into his arms, "Make sure you change into these clothes soon, boy. While they're still warm from the sun."

            She turned on her heel and stalked down the length of the hall, muttering about dishes and washing that had not yet been done, leaving Ilya to stare after her, soaking up the warmth of his clothes against his chest.

***

Ilya trudged down the stairs a few minutes later, the warmth that embraced him making him weak and giddy with pleasure, to hear Oleena's voice boom abruptly through the whole house.

            He jogged the rest of the way to the kitchen, falling clumsily against the door when his hand slipped on the catch.

            The voices behind the door hushed as he came in. An older man, his beard neatly trimmed, the rest of his hair tucked away under a scarlet fur cap, sat on the edge of a rickety wooden chair, his arms splayed out on the table and his blue eyes flashing. He wore a white shirt and black leggings, all under a thick fur overcoat, its seams encrusted with yellow dirt.

            Oleena sat opposite him, looking murderous. Her round face was tinged red, and she moved her feet restlessly, frowning sternly the whole time.

            The man jumped to his feet and gestured wildly at Ilya as though he were the answer to an impossible question.

            "See!" he shouted indignantly. "This one returns from his mission, and yet my son does not! You are protecting your runts, your waifs, while capable men are dying to save us!

            "And even now your plan does not work," he continued, his eyes glinting madly. "In the papers. Today. Did you not see? The governor is dead, and still they hold the festival. Celebrating our deaths." He spat, his mouth twisted in disgust, and folded his arms over his chest.

            Ilya took a step back, glanced at Oleena for an answer. She had her hands braced on her wide hips and was glaring down at the floor.

            "The trial," she said slowly. "It will be public. When the square is full, and they have brought her out, we will act. When we kill Relena Peacecraft, Moscow's government will have to account for it. While they are making their most sorrowful apologies, Moscow will attack."


End file.
